When He Bled Scarlet and Gray
by Stephanie2233
Summary: A TV Segment set during March Madness helps Jimmy and Abby show Ziva and McGee another side of Tony DiNozzo. How will they react when they find out their goofy teammate was once one of America's sport heroes?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**** Hello everyone! After almost 2 years, I'm finally back with a story about the team finding out about Tony's basketball and football career at Ohio State. This story is complete and will be 6 chapters long. I will post once or twice a week. A few disclaimers: I have made up Tony's athletic career - I don't know what positions he played or how good he actually was according to the show. I tried to make it believable, but this is fiction, so some details may be off. I am also aware that ESPN does not air the Final Four games and that they have not done a TV special about Anthony DiNozzo, but in my little world, they have ;) I hope you enjoy the story.**

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**When He Bled Scarlet and Gray**

**Chapter 1**

"Yes, this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, what can I do for you?" Tony's easygoing voice greeted a caller as he relaxed into his desk chair, hoping someone was finally getting back to him with a lead.

There was nothing unusual about the situation. The team was working on cold cases that week—Director Vance's version of a well-deserved rest. The members of Team Gibbs were periodically making and fielding phone calls to and from different parties, trying to find any leads associated with the mountain of cold case files piled away in the archives.

McGee and Ziva barely glanced up as Tony continued his conversation.

"Man, you guys really are persistent." Tony replied to whatever the caller had requested. His tone was still light, his posture still relaxed, nothing visible or audible to alert his teammates to how uncomfortable he actually was.

_Damn whatever government policy had mandated that, as a federal agent, his work line had to be listed publicly, _he thought. While he supposed the statute had its benefits, it also meant that practically anyone could contact him at work, as long as they knew he was an NCIS agent.

"Well, like I told the last lady," he began, the frustration starting to ring through in his voice, catching the attention of both Ziva and McGee, who were desperately seeking something to focus their attention on other than cold cases. "I'm not interested, and no matter how many times you call, I still won't be interested…"

He paused for a moment as the woman responded, before snapping back, "No, you cannot use that as a quote!"

Tony realized that his statement diverted all attention onto his conversation. He watched as McGee's eyes narrowed in part concern, part curiosity.

Ziva gave a small smirk, but inside she couldn't help a small pang of anxiety for her partner. Tony was quite obviously flustered by whoever was calling. She wondered if it had anything to do with his current cold case, or if it was something more personal. She guessed it was the latter.

"Yeah, I get that. I know what it's for and I thank you, but it's not happening. I'm not interested." Tony reiterated, slamming the phone down.

He took a couple of deep breaths before looking up and realizing that both Ziva and McGee were looking at him.

"Ex-girlfriend." He shrugged, shifting back to his file a little too quickly. Then, as if realizing how weak of an explanation that was, he gave a smug and suggestive smile. "She was apparently _very_ impressed with our last encounter, wanted a little more of the DiNozzo package." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Tony DiNozzo, saying no to a woman who wants more?" Ziva called him out, knowing full well that although Tony had indeed been talking to a woman, she was not just a jaded lover or a desperate girl looking for more.

"She wasn't my type." Tony said quickly, inwardly cringing at how incredibly lame his excuses were becoming.

"Come on, Tony. We weren't born yesterday, who was it really?" McGee pressed, curious about what had made his teammate so disconcerted in such a short time.

"It was Wendy, was it not? Will we be working with her again?" Ziva asked playfully, trying to figure out what was going through Tony's head.

"You won't be working with anyone if I don't start seeing some progress on those case files." Gibbs interrupted their interrogation, sweeping in, in his usual dramatic fashion.

Muttered excuses were silenced with a glare as each of the three agents went back to their respective cases. They all knew the questioning would resume sometime soon, once their boss was out of earshot.

NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS

It was Tony's turn to get lunch that day, and so as early afternoon rolled around, the senior field agent grabbed his cell and his keys. "Lunch special at Antonio's today-authentic lasagna directly from the home land!" he announced.

"All the way from Long Island?" McGee quipped, quickly pointing out that no matter how proud Tony was of his Italian heritage, he was still born in America.

"Funny, McGee, funny." Tony said good-naturedly. "Just for that, I'm not bringing you the garlic bread."

"I was just kidding Tony!" McGee scrambled, craning his neck to catch his partner's eye before he disappeared into the elevator. "Seriously! You know I love their garlic bread!" He slumped in his seat. "Do you think he heard me?" He asked Ziva, half joking, half serious.

"I have no doubt he heard you, McGee," Ziva replied with a small, knowing smile.

"But that doesn't mean he won't carry out his threats." McGee almost deflated, unsure of whether his teammate would show him any mercy. He looked up at Ziva. "You'll share yours, won't you?"

"Not a chance, McGee. You know how much I enjoy Antonio's garlic bread," she teased.

They silently worked for a few more minutes before Ziva spoke up. "McGee, did you not think it was odd, the way Tony reacted to that call?"

"You mean this morning?" McGee clarified.

"Yes, this morning! It is not as if–wait, have there been other calls?" Ziva asked.

"Well, yeah. A few, I think. Tony's never been that loud about it though. I figured it was something with his father." McGee said, now thinking back to that morning.

"I am concerned. It is best that there are no secrets among teammates—we have seen what has happened when Tony has kept us out of the hoop before."

"Loop." McGee corrected automatically. "And that's not really fair, Ziva. He was under orders not to tell anyone."

"Not Gibbs' orders." Ziva replied quickly, causing McGee to give her an odd look.

"Look, I just think you're being hard on him. If it's our business, Tony will tell us." McGee calmly stated.

"I do not like it." Ziva said, still uneasy.

Just then, Tony's phone rang, and Ziva's head shot up, her eyes zeroing in on the phone.

"Ziva…" McGee warned. "Ziva…no, no…that's Tony's phone…"

Ziva was already out of her seat. "It is not as if Tony has never dug into our lives, McGee," she hissed, reaching for the phone.

"Agent DiNozzo's desk," she greeted sweetly, ignoring McGee's horrified look.

"_Yes, hi. Is this Mr. DiNozzo's publicist speaking?"_ the voice on the other line asked.

"His publicist?" Ziva repeated, shooting a confused look at McGee. "No, I am his partner. Agent DiNozzo is currently unavailable, but is there any way I can assist you?" McGee recognized right away her attempt to find out exactly who had been calling their partner. His initial horrified reaction was starting to lessen into an insatiable curiosity.

"_Oh…I see."_ The woman on the other line sounded confused._ "Well, we have called several times before, and we are approaching our deadline…I was just calling to ask Mr. DiNozzo if he would reconsider our interview request."_

"I will pass that onto him," Ziva assured. "May I ask who I am speaking with?"

"_Oh, my apologies, Miss-?"_

"David," Ziva supplied.

"_Miss David. My name is Evelyn. I am calling from ESPN. Could you please have Mr. DiNozzo call me back as soon as possible? He has our number."_

"Yes, of course. He will contact you shortly," Ziva said, still no closer to having any idea of who was trying to contact her partner.

"_Thank you, have a good day_," Evelyn said, hanging up quickly.

McGee raised his eyebrows at his partner in question. "Well, who was it?"

"Her name was Evelyn. She was calling about an interview. She said she was from 'ESPN', but I have never heard of that place. Perhaps Tony was following a lead there…"

"Wait. ESPN? As in, the sports channel?" McGee asked.

"I do not know, McGee. I do not own a television. But I thought…ESP was that thing, you know, when you can communicate with someone without words…"

"Well, you said it was ESPN, Ziva, not ESP. There's quite a difference."

"A difference between what?" a familiar voice interrupted.

Ziva whirled around. "Palmer, hello."

"Hi Ziva; is Tony back from Antonio's yet? He promised me he'd bring me McGee's garlic bread." He turned to McGee. "I can't believe you didn't want yours, it's amazing!"

McGee let out a deep sigh, "I do…" he pathetically tried to protest, before seeing it was useless.

"What do you have for us, Palmer?" Ziva asked, gesturing to the piece of paper Palmer was holding almost reverently.

"Oh, it's my bracket! I've been so busy with our last case and then I had three midterms last week so I completely forgot to update it, but Doctor Mallard gave me the morning off, and I finally had time to look at it, and I just had to show Tony! I got every team in the Final Four right!"

"Seriously?" McGee asked. "Let me see that!" Palmer handed it over, and McGee looked through it in awe.

"I do not understand. What is a 'Final Four'?" Ziva asked.

"Oh Ziva! You're missing out! It's called March Madness. It's a tournament to determine the national champion in college basketball. People all around the country fill out brackets trying to predict who will win each game. It's really hard to pick the Final Four, which are the last four teams left in the tournament. In three more games, we'll have a new national champion."

"My bracket's terrible." McGee muttered, shaking his head. "I'm surprised Tony hasn't asked me about it yet."

"Tony doesn't fill them out. That's why I took his place in his tournament with his frat brothers. Who'd you pick to win it, McGee?"

"Duke," McGee said pathetically. Palmer snickered. "How was I supposed to know they'd lose in the first round?" McGee defended. "Why, who'd you pick?"

"Ohio State, obviously. Though no Ohio State team will ever measure up to Tony's team from 1990. Wow, I still can't believe that ending! Legendary!" Palmer beamed with pride for his friend.

"Tony was in the Final Four?" McGee asked, a little surprised. He knew his partner had played basketball in college, but he'd never heard any stories from Tony's glory days, so he figured there hadn't been much to tell. Either they hadn't been very good, or Tony had been more of a bench warmer than a superstar.

"Tony was a National Champion, McGee!" Palmer exclaimed, before clamming up. "Wait, he didn't ever tell you guys that?"

The two agents shook their heads, clearly taken aback by these new revelations about their friend.

"Why would Tony not tell us this?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, I would've thought Tony would never stop bragging about it," McGee commented, deep in thought.

Palmer was quiet. He knew the reason Tony never told anyone about it. It brought back painful memories for him. Sports had been Tony's life since he was just four years old. Never feeling very close to his family, he had allowed sports to fill a void. He'd been a star basketball and football player in high school and had received a full ride scholarship to Ohio State to play basketball.

Fall quarter of Tony's freshman year of school, he had realized how much he missed football, and he walked onto the football team as a tight end, showing promise in special teams as well. Between football and basketball, it had been tough to juggle everything, but in the end, he'd settled into the football team as their star kick returner, his speed, agility, and natural instincts making him one of the most dangerous returners in the NCAA.

After football season, he concentrated fully on basketball, where he emerged as the team's star point guard early on in his freshman year. Basketball was his passion. Every time he stepped out onto the court, it was as if he was coming home. He'd never felt that he'd belonged anywhere, until he found the sport of basketball. He had natural talent, he had been athletic his entire life, and he was the hardest worker his coach had ever seen.

He lived and breathed Scarlet and Gray. Even as a freshman, he was one of the leaders in the locker room. His teammates respected him, and that translated into the team's play on the court. Off the court, he liked to enjoy himself—some would say too much—but no one could argue with his results when it mattered.

By his junior year, it was obvious Tony could go pro. Teams were constantly calling him, encouraging him to declare for the NBA draft, and he faced a huge decision.

Before the that year's tournament, he was assured he would go to a team in the first round, which would guarantee him a professional contract, but not necessarily a whole lot of playing time in the first year or two. But after the tournament, after Tony DiNozzo emerged as the heart and soul of Columbus, as the face of Ohio State basketball, there was talk of Tony possibly being the number one pick in the coming NBA draft—that was, if he decided to turn pro.

It had been an arduous decision for Tony, but in the end, common sense, and a love for "old Columbus town", had prevailed, and he'd made the decision to return to Ohio State for his senior season. The hope was to lead the Buckeyes to a repeat national title, as well as to graduate with his peers.

His basketball coach had been wary of Tony playing football at all his senior year, but Tony was a natural competitorand there was no way he was going to shrink away from the gridiron. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to playing in the Shoe just yet—plus, that hated team from up north was scheduled to invade Columbus in November, and Tony was looking forward to being a part of the crushing of their biggest rivals.

Tony had a breakout season in football that year, returning eleven kickoffs for touchdowns, and another five punts, causing quite a few NFL teams to take notice. Tony quickly announced publicly that he had no plans to pursue a career in the NFL—he wasn't one to keep teams waiting for an answer that would never come.

Finally it was time. Beat Michigan Week. The freezing cold jump into Mirror Lake, which Tony watched, but did not participate in, knowing full well that he could not risk his health. The excitement and animosity towards Michigan throughout campus was palpable.

The game itself was intense. A defensive battle, with few first downs, hard-earned yards, and even harder hits. In the fourth quarter, the Buckeyes were down 13-10. Michigan had just scored its first touchdown of the game to put them ahead with less than a minute left. Tony was waiting at the other end zone, ready to provide the spark for the Buckeyes with a game-changing kickoff return.

He caught the ball, he ran, he juked, and then he dropped to the turf, submerged underneath a pile of bodies. Something was wrong. The crowd was cheering, the pile was clearing, but he wasn't getting up. He'd gotten them to midfield—they could almost taste field goal range—but for Tony, the game was over.

That was all Palmer knew. Tony had stopped talking after that, explaining only that some jerk named Brad Pitt, of all people, had taken him out, tearing his 3 of his ligaments and breaking 2 of his bones. He'd done his job—his team went on to tie the game with a field goal, and avoid a loss to their biggest rivals, but the consequences had been enormous for their star kick returner and point guard, Tony DiNozzo.

He never played basketball for his beloved Scarlet and Gray again. He never got a chance to lead his Buckeyes to a repeat. He never got to be a new ray of hope for a struggling NBA team as the number one pick in the draft. Basketball had been his life, and it had been cruelly ripped from him by some punk with a movie star name wearing maize and blue.

"Well, he never actually told me about the National Championship…I kind of already knew," admitted Palmer.

It was true. Palmer had watched the game in real time, had seen Tony DiNozzo become a national celebrity after his incredible performance in the national championship game. He had also seen Tony's career-ending knee injury, and had been devastated to see such an athlete forced into early retirement.

When he'd come to work at NCIS and met Tony DiNozzo, he hadn't even made the connection, that was, until a comment from Abby about Tony's playing days at OSU. He had been shocked and almost ran up to Tony to request an autograph, before realizing how inappropriate that would be.

As he grew closer to Tony, he started feeling tempted to ask, but he could never get it out. Finally, one day after a long case during Gibbs' Mexican hiatus, he'd been at a bar with Tony, and he'd asked. They'd both had a few—Tony probably more than he should—and the whole story came out; not that Palmer hadn't already known the facts, but it meant something to him to actually hear it from his friend.

Tony hadn't asked him to keep it quiet, but he could tell it wasn't a topic of conversation that Tony enjoyed. According to DiNozzo, only Abby and Gibbs knew Gibbs because, well, Gibbs knew everything, and Abby, because she was Tony's best friend, and with a little digging, she'd had him spilling his guts.

But for some reason, Palmer had always thought that McGee and Ziva knew as well—apparently, Tony had only given them the barest of details: "I played basketball for Ohio State." Yeah, that was definitely an understatement.

Palmer knew that it wasn't that Tony didn't want his teammates to find out; he just didn't want their pity, or their questions, or for them to expect him to revisit it. That didn't mean though, that they shouldn't know just how great Tony had been.

He smiled—he just found his newest project.

"I watched Tony play when I was a kid. He was amazing! A true athlete!" He explained. "You know, they're doing a special on the most legendary March Madness moments and players this Saturday, in-between the two Final Four games. I'm watching it over at Abby's place…you two should come!"

The invitation startled the two agents, but not as much as the idea that they were doing a special about Tony on TV that weekend.

"Wait, that's why ESPN called!" McGee gasped. "They want to interview Tony for the show."

"Why did he say no?" Ziva asked.

Both Ziva and McGee turned towards Palmer, who backed up slightly. "Hey, that's Tony's story to tell, not mine." Palmer said. "If you guys really want to know, you should just come over to Abby's on Saturday…I think the show will explain a lot."

Ziva shook her head. "I believe it would be better if I just asked him."

Palmer jumped up. "No!" He settled a little. "I mean, what I mean is, that Tony doesn't like talking about it. He's just gonna push you away. Come to Abby's, watch it with us, learn a little about March Madness, and then if you have any questions for Tony, well, you can ask, I guess. Plus, you'll learn about another American tradition!"

"This March Madness is an American tradition?" Ziva said quizzically.

"Of course! Well, I mean, yeah, I would say so,"Palmer said.

Finally McGee spoke up. "All right. I'll go." He was actually pretty curious about these new stories about his partner. Plus, over the past few years, he'd really started enjoying March Madness, and he couldn't think of a better way to watch the Final Four than with Abby.

Ziva still looked as if she was on the fence. "I do not want Tony to be upset with us," she said.

"He won't. Trust me on this, Ziva. He's okay with people knowing, he just doesn't like to talk about it."

"And he will not be upset that we did not invite him?"

"Ziva, he asked not to come. He told me to 'Pull all my little gremlin friends out of their nerd crevices and converge them in Abby's bat cave.' He's completely okay with it."

Ziva finally nodded. "Okay, I will come."

Palmer smiled. This was the perfect opportunity to show Ziva and McGee a different side of Anthony DiNozzo.

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**Thank you for reading, and please review! Chapter two will be posted probably around Sunday. Also, yes, I am a Buckeye fan, but other than Duke and Michigan, the teams I picked are totally random and I have nothing against any of them. I picked on Duke because my friend is a Duke fan and I started this story right after they got eliminated (I have no secret hatred for Duke, I promise). And Michigan was chosen for obvious reasons, because they are OSU's big rival and because NCIS has established that Tony was playing Michigan when he hurt his leg. Thank you for reading!**

**Peas,**

**Stephanie**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**** Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of the reviews, alerts, and favorites on the first chapter - I'm so glad you enjoy the story! This chapter will feature more insight into how each of the characters feel about Tony's situation and about the planned get-together at Abby's place. I would like to thank my amazing beta reader, ncismom, for all of her corrections. Any remaining mistakes are mine! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

Ziva and McGee had not mentioned anything more to Tony about the phone calls, just quickly relaying to him that Evelyn had called while he was at lunch.

They had watched his reaction to their message closely, but there was a reason Tony was usually picked for undercover assignments, so he was as unreadable as ever. Quickly thanking Ziva before returning to his work, he was a little too immersed in case files for the display to be believable.

The rest of the week dragged along. Without a hot case to keep the team busy, they dredged through files and files of notes and evidence logs, finding and dismissing leads, eyes constantly on the clock as they silently prayed for the weekend to come, signifying the end of cold cases.

Ziva and McGee tried to do a little digging on the side. They were still having trouble comprehending that Tony had not only been a sport hero when he was younger, but that he hadn't ever mentioned it.

Ziva found an old roster from the 1990 season, but no pictures accompanied it, and the only new information she found was that Tony had weighed 190 lbs in college.

Frustrated that she didn't have the computer skills to dig deeper, she instead focused on researching the game of basketball; in particular, she looked up what exactly a 'point guard' was, and tried to figure out the purpose of 'March Madness'.

Tony may not think she cared about what he cared about, but that wasn't necessarily true. She certainly hadn't taken that American Film class because of her long-suppressed interest in classic films. She'd taken it to better relate to her partner, to make an effort to comprehend even 10% of his obscure movie references, and to try to understand exactly why these films and characters meant so much to him.

And now here she was, struggling to understand why nearly half of all Americans suddenly pay attention to college basketball in March, diligently filling out brackets, watching to see which team will emerge as the National Champion. Why? Because her partner, her goofy, brave, obnoxious, loyal, incorrigible, caring, secretive partner had, at one time, apparently been the face of this American tradition.

And what kind of friend would she be if she didn't appreciate what that had meant to him?

McGee had a few more resources at his disposal, considering his formidable computer skills, but after reading a few of the archived articles about the tournament, he realized that the best way to really understand was to just watch the TV special at Abby's place. Not to mention, he'd spilled Gibbs's coffee earlier that day, and his boss had been a bear around him—there was no way he'd survive if Gibbs caught him stalking Tony rather than researching leads.

He'd been unable to access any actual replays without hacking into a few secure servers, and while he had no trouble hacking into the CIA when matters of national security were at stake, he didn't feel comfortable hacking for personal matters. He was pretty sure Gibbs wouldn't have signed a 'get out of jail free' card for that.

From what he could tell, Tony really had been a big deal and sometimes he found himself studying his partner while the senior field agent was immersed in case files, trying to understand him.

He'd always known Tony was athletic, always known he'd played basketball at Ohio State. How had he not made the connection? Of course, it was because Tony had never mentioned it, which was unusual because Tony mentioned _everything_. What he had for breakfast, what episode of Magnum he watched over the weekend, who he slept with the night before—Tony DiNozzo was an open book.

Or, so he wanted you to think. McGee saw now, that Tony usually hid the things that really mattered. His childhood. Wendy. Jeanne. His career-ending injury. Just how much did he really know about his partner?

It was these thoughts that had him actually looking forward to the game on Saturday. Maybe this would help him understand his partner more clearly.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Abby and Jimmy were both excited for the possibilities they were starting to see for the weekend. When Jimmy told Abby that Ziva and McGee would be joining them, she'd almost broken a few of his ribs with her monstrous hug. While he recovered and regained his breath, Abby had babbled on and on about how great of a player Tony had been and how she was so so so so so so so _totally_ excited that he'd convinced the team to come over and witness it too.

He'd politely listened as she outlined their plans for the night, starting with the always-important snacks and beer, and then working out the minor details, like which of Tony's jerseys she was going to wear, and if she was gonna break out her Buckeye earrings for good luck. She had seen them at some random store in Ohio a few years ago, and already feeling a little homesick, they'd reminded her so much of Tony that she wasted no time in buying them.

She rattled on and on to Jimmy about how she was going to make their get-together perfect, even if there would be no guest of honor.

"I mean, it would be awesome if Tony was there, but I totally understand why he doesn't want to watch. I have to close my eyes every time I see the replay of his knee bending the wrong way—and usually I'm not grossed out by that stuff, but it's _Tony_, you know? So it's different. And I know how terrible it is sometimes for him to be reminded of what his life could have been…not that he doesn't have an awesome life now. I mean, he's a super good-looking, strong, brave, federal agent who's saved like hundreds of lives…who wouldn't be happy with that? But I'm sure he can't help but wonder, you know, how different his life would've been." She just kept talking, her thoughts flowing out of her mouth faster than she could even keep track of them.

"Married to some beautiful supermodel, driving fast cars, signing autographs wherever he goes…" Palmer mused with a chuckle.

Abby slapped him playfully. "Palmer! Tony's not that shallow…he just pretends he is! We all know he has a heart of gold."

"I didn't say he doesn't have a heart of gold, I'm just saying, I don't know if Tony could've turned down a supermodel wife."

The argument had gone on and on, with Abby grudgingly admitting that she could see a different version of Tony marrying a young supermodel, but "Only if he really, truly loved her!" Jimmy then conceded that although Tony probably would not have turned down the high life, he would have been a class act on and off the court—a role model for young athletes to idolize.

Not that he wasn't a role model already. Tony had never really accepted it, but the truth was, he was considered a hero by hundreds of people. Victims he had saved, families he had reunited, or to whom had had given closure, friends and comrades in the force, the list was endless.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

On his way down to Abby's lab, Tony had caught the tail end of their conversation. Of course they were on a topic that never failed to get him thinking, something he found to be very dangerous at times.

Tony did know, on some level, the impact he had on others' lives—how his misfortune had turned into their saving grace.

He didn't like to think about it too often. When he took the time to dwell upon his successes in law enforcement, inevitably, he was distracted by his failures. Kate. Paula. Jenny. Where would they be if he'd been some rich jock? Would they still be alive?

It was partly for this reason that he did not wish to dwell upon his days of basketball stardom. Woulda, coulda, shoulda was just that. He couldn't allow himself to get wrapped up in a hundred different scenarios of what might have happened if Brad Pitt hadn't destroyed his knee.

And the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Not because of the ones he'd failed to save, though that was bad enough, but because of the ones he _had_ saved.

Where would they be if his life had been defined as Tony DiNozzo, #7, 6'2" point guard averaging 24 points a game? How could he sit there and wish that he could trade their lives for a second chance at a basketball career?

Sometimes it was this thought that actually brought him some closure, at least for a moment. They made it all worth it, or at least made him guilty enough to squelch all thoughts of the 'what if'.

Yet still, as much meaning as he had found in the new life he had been practically thrown into, it always pained him to go back and remember his glory days.

Basketball had been such a huge part of his life that he had never been able to let all of it go. He'd found himself okay with talking about it as a sport, making vague references to his playing days, but never going into detail. He couldn't let himself get wrapped up in the memories—he was liable to suffocate if he dwelled too much.

March Madness was a particularly sucky part of the year, especially with the frenzy that always surrounded it. He thought he'd done a pretty good job smoothly side-stepping any office bracket tournaments, silently thankful that no one ever really pressed.

He knew that every year, Jimmy and Abby got together and watched as many games as possible. It was an odd combination: the autopsy gremlin and the Goth princess, but it worked. He was glad they were such good friends, and so understanding of his wish to stay completely detached from the tournament.

He also knew McGee and Ziva were going to be joining them this year.

He'd first been clued into it when his teammates had told him Evelyn had called again, but hadn't pressed for any details. It meant someone else had satisfied their curiosity - or that Gibbs had threatened them, but since he was pretty sure his Boss had been in MTAC the whole time he was gone, he figured it was the former.

He was also grateful that whoever had talked to them, be it Abby or Jimmy, had also asked them not to discuss it in front of him. He was actually a little surprised that Ziva had agreed so readily, but nonetheless thankful when his teammates made nothing more of it.

His theory had been confirmed when he'd gotten a phone call late Thursday night from a slightly nervous Jimmy, who'd apparently been second guessing his decision to let the team in. He'd quickly assured Jimmy that he was all right with Ziva and McGee attending their Final Four get-together, resisting the urge to feign anger and watch his friend squirm a little. Oh, how he'd changed.

As for himself, he knew exactly where he'd be on Saturday night—where he'd gone every time something had bothered him in the last 10 years: Gibbs's house.

He'd never discussed anything about his basketball career with his boss, but somehow Gibbs not only knew everything, but completely understood. In fact, he probably understood better than Tony himself did.

Over the years, Tony had come over and they'd just gone down to the basement; they talked, they drank bourbon, and sometimes Tony even tried his hand at boat-building, when he wasn't completely afraid he'd screw something up. There, in Gibbs's basement, March Madness didn't exist—they were in another world, completely unaware and independent of the frenzy that was taking over the rest of America.

Because once, Tony had been able to be a part of that. Once, he had felt as if he were on top of the world. And though that had been ripped away from him, he was now working his way towards climbing back up. But the last thing he needed was for his memories to bring him back down.

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**Thank you very much for reading, and please review! The next chapter will be up Wednesday or Thursday and will feature the team get-together at Abby's place. Also, I realized I failed to mention when this is set...probably around the middle of season 9...basically at a time when the team regards each other as a _team_, and when their teasing stays light-hearted instead of hurtful. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!**

**Peas,**

**Stephanie**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's** **Note:** _Thank you so much for all of your reviews to the last chapter. I believe I replied to everyone except my anonymous reviewers, but really, THANK YOU! And thank you to my wonderful beta reader, ncismom, for all of her help with this one! Quick notes: I chose Syracuse because the Buckeyes beat them this year, so it is sort of factual/believable, not because I hate Syracuse (or Duke for that matter, haha). Also, I don't really think it is probable that Tony could have played both basketball and football, but that is how the show has it, so I tried to come up with a plausible situation. I hope it works._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Oh my god, 1700? Am I reading that clock right, Jimmy? Tell me I'm going crazy and reading it wrong!" Abby shrieked, flying through her kitchen, a collection of scarlet and gray streamers trailing behind her.

Palmer quickly jumped out of her way, his eyes wide as he took in her frenzied preparations.

Abby's apartment had been transformed from a Goth paradise into some sort of crazed Ohio State super fan's dream home. Ohio State posters and banners covered every wall. Abby had replaced her usual blankets with Ohio State ones, put rally towels in the place of her standard ones, and broken out a set of Buckeye dinnerware that Jimmy hadn't even known she'd had.

She had cleared off all of her tables and shelves to make room for all of Tony's old memorabilia. This was normal—it was her way of allowing Tony to be a part of this. Old pictures of the team were on display, along with basketballs signed by all the players, and old programs and newspaper articles that she'd either gotten from Tony or hunted for herself. She had reverently hung up all but one of Tony's old Buckeye jerseys, keeping her favorite one for herself.

Abby was so proud of Tony's past athletic accomplishments that she had managed to commandeer all of his old stuff from his college days. She had vowed to guard it with her life, making sure that he knew she would immediately return anything he asked for. However, so far, Tony hadn't had any extreme feelings of nostalgia; therefore, for the time being, Abby had enough memorabilia to turn her apartment into a Buckeye fan cave.

Abby herself was wearing a Buckeye bandana on her head, and had applied Ohio State eye-black underneath her eyes. She wore Tony's home basketball jersey—Ohio State displayed on the front, and Tony's #7 on the back. She wore gray leggings with tall Brutus the Buckeye socks, and Converse shoes decorated for the occasion. She would've fit in well in the Buckeye 'Nut House' with the OSU students.

"PALMER!"

"Oh, sorry Abby! Yeah, I think the clock is right." Jimmy answered, startled a bit by the urgency in her voice.

"Oh no, they'll be here any second! When's the last time McGee's been late to anything?" Abby was now almost leaping through her apartment, hooking streamers over everything that would hold them. Jimmy was surprised he hadn't been wrapped like a mummy yet.

"Here, catch!" Abby ordered. Jimmy looked up just in time for a large pack of balloons to smack him in the face.

"Ow…" He muttered, but Abby ignored him.

"I need those blown up five minutes ago, Palmer!" She demanded**. **Jimmy wondered if she was practicing her Gibbs impression. If so, she'd gotten rather good at it.

A knock on the door halted Abby in her tracks. "No! They're here…" she said, almost deflating.

"I'm sure it's fine, Abby. Maybe McGee and Ziva would like to help finish decorating anyways." Jimmy tried to assure her as he went to open the door.

"Hey guys, come on in!" Jimmy greeted them, pulling back the door to reveal all of Abby's hard work.

"What…? Wow…" McGee observed, cautiously stepping inside. He hadn't been expecting this.

"I do not know what to say…" Ziva commented, taking in the decorations.

"Say you'll help me blow up these balloons, Ziva!" Abby requested adamantly.

"Oh, of course," Ziva said a little awkwardly, taking the balloons from Abby.

"There's like 100 in there, and Palmer has another hundred…McGee, you can take the supersized pack—it has 250!" Abby instructed excitedly, not even stopping to think how many balloons that would be.

"Um Abby, do you really think that many balloons is necessary?" McGee asked.

"Do you want the Buckeyes to lose, McGee?" she countered.

"Well, actually, yeah, if I have any chance of saving my bracket..." McGee started, but Abby's icy glare forced him to stumble over his words. "I mean, no, no of course not…I was just thinking, do we really have room for 450 balloons?"

"Don't be silly, McGee, there's room for at least 600 in here, but I didn't have time to go out and get more…" she finished a little remorsefully.

"I think 450 is fine." Jimmy quickly interjected.

They got to work blowing up balloons, and soon, the ceiling was covered with scarlet and gray globes. Fortunately, Abby was quick to see that they would not have the time, or the lung capacity, to blow up all 450 balloons and settled for having the kitchen and living room ceiling covered.

They settled down in the living room, turning on pregame coverage and digging into all of the snacks that Abby had set up.

"I am impressed, Abby," Ziva said.

"Aww, it was nothing! Anyways, Tony supplied most of this stuff," she gestured around the room.

"You are wearing his old jersey, yes?"

"Yep! DiNozzo, #7!" she announced, quickly standing and doing a little twirl to show off the jersey. "He even autographed it for me."

"Doesn't look like his signature," McGee commented.

"Well, yeah Timmy, it's an autograph, it's supposed to have some pizazz to it!" Abby exclaimed. "I mean you don't sign your prize basketball jersey like you sign an evidence log! Then someone could sneak into evidence lockup and steal any of our evidence using Tony's name!"

"I don't think he was worrying about that yet, Abby."

"You don't know that! Well, actually yeah, you probably do…because if Tony were psychic, I know that I'd be the first one he'd tell, and he hasn't told me, so he can't be psychic," she explained, as if all of her reasoning made perfect sense.

"Tony signed all of these as well?" Ziva interrupted, having gotten up from the couch to peruse the rest of the room.

Abby watched as Ziva picked up a photo, which showed Tony in the middle of shooting a three-pointer, his arms fully extended and the ball just inches from his fingertips. It was also signed, and had a small note: "To my best friend. Love and lots and lots of kisses. Anthony DiNozzo."

Palmer jumped up. "That was from one of the best games I have ever seen!" He pretended to wave for an imaginary basketball as he moved around the room, trying to re-enact the shot. "The Buckeyes are down 74-72 and there are 7 seconds left. Ball is knocked out of bounds at half court. They know they've gotta get it to their go-to guy…"

"Their _what_ guy?" Ziva interjected, obviously still trying to understand all of the new American sports terms.

"Go-to, Ziva." McGee calmly explained. "You know, the guy that always makes the tough shots, the guy you want to depend on when the entire game is on the line."

"And this, _go-to _guy…that was _Tony_? Ziva asked, looking again at the photograph.

"No doubt about it." Palmer answered, eager to continue on with his demonstration. "And everyone knew it. Tony was so heavily guarded, I have no idea how he got the ball. He did some ridiculous fake and then a monster leap," Jimmy grunted as he awkwardly sprung in the air, twisting is body and coming down a little too close to Abby's shrine. "He went up and got that ball! He brings it down, twists away from the defenders, but there's still two guys on top of him. The clock's winding down so he takes the shot—no one believes it'll go in with that much pressure, but SWISH! Nothing but net, I tell you, nothing but net!"

They watched as Palmer finally came out of his fantasy, looking at his friends with the widest grin on his face. "It was the best shot I'd ever seen. Inspired me to try out for my high school team."

"Did you make it?" asked McGee.

Palmer's smile dimmed a bit. "In a way…according to my coach, I didn't have the 'hops' to be an asset to the team, but I was the winningest student manager that Bayside High has ever seen!" he finished, with true pride in his voice.

McGee gave him a genuine smile, understanding how disappointing it was to be cut from a sports team. "Good for you, Palmer."

"So that…shot," Ziva clarified, "That is what this TV special is all about?"

"Not just the shot, Ziva!" Abby cut in. "That was just to get to the finals. The next game, Tony led his team to the National Championship!"

"He was named MVP of the tournament…virtually guaranteed him the number one spot in the NBA draft," Palmer continued.

"Seriously?" McGee asked. "Then why is he here?"

"McGee!" Abby admonished.

"Sorry," he quickly backtracked, as if realizing how harsh that sounded. "What I mean is, how did Tony go from the number one player in college basketball, to a cop?"

Abby and Palmer exchanged glances. They hadn't figured that McGee and Ziva would be so in the dark about the way that Tony's career had ended. Surely their research had turned up something…

"Well," Abby began, "that was only his junior year, and he wanted to get his degree first."

Abby noticed the brief show of surprise flicker across McGee's face at the mention of Tony considering academics first. She smiled a little – it was about time Timmy and Ziva understood that Tony was more than just a goofy jock. There was so much more to Anthony DiNozzo. She knew that over the years they had gotten to know Tony much better, but really, when were they going to stop underestimating him?

McGee seemed to recover from his surprise quickly. "Still, he would've been drafted after his senior year, with that kind of talent. Unless…oh god, did he have a bust of a season his senior year?"

"Not…exactly," Jimmy stuttered, now a little uncomfortable with the situation.

"Then, what exactly happened, Jimmy?" It was evident by Ziva's sharp tone that she was intent on finding out what happened to her partner.

"A knee injury…" Jimmy began. Abby glanced over and they made eye contact, both unsure of how to approach an explanation of the devastating and abrupt end to Tony's career. Before either of them could elaborate, however, Palmer looked up at the TV—the first game was beginning. "Oh, would you look at that, the first game's starting!" he announced, looking almost relieved.

With that, the team pushed Tony's injury to the back of their minds and focused on the game, taking a slight break from having to think about their friend's painful past. Thankfully, Tony's Buckeyes, who were taking on Syracuse, were putting on quite the show.

As they watched, Abby, Jimmy, and McGee helped Ziva appreciate the finer points of basketball, further explaining the positions, the plays, and the rules.

Abby could tell that Ziva was not impressed by the so-called _fouls. _"That should not be considered a foul, he hardly pushed him!" she exclaimed after one particularly hard foul. "If I had been hit with that force, I would not have fallen down so easily. He should work on maintaining his center of balance more effectively—going down like that leaves him exposed to the other team."

"Ziva…this is basketball!" Abby responded. "This isn't a war zone!"

"I am just saying. These men are not so fragile as they pretend. Did you see that one man? You know, the number 34, that fell down _three seconds_ after he was touched!"

"Ok, well _that_ was a flop," McGee admitted. "But you have to remember, Ziva, these players are going hard to the net—if they get hit in the air, they are bound to fall at least a little off balance."

"I suppose," Ziva conceded, though she did not sound quite convinced.

"And it's not like the purpose of basketball is to hurt people!" Abby continued. "There have to be rules in place so that players aren't seriously injured!"

"Like Tony was injured?" Ziva asked.

The room was silent for a second, before Jimmy said, "Yeah, I guess."

Another small silence followed, and then Ziva finally spoke softly, "Well then, I suppose fouls are a good thing."

At halftime, they all got up to stretch—McGee and Ziva took the time to walk around the room and look at the rest of Abby's DiNozzo-memorabilia collection.

"So, are you enjoying the game, Ziva?" McGee asked as he flipped through an old Ohio State program.

"I am," she answered. "I believe that it is quite a challenging game—I can see why Tony would have liked it. He is always shooting those paper balls in the trashcan in the office…"

"Yeah, come to think of it…I don't think I've seen him miss," McGee replied thoughtfully.

"This is quite interesting," Ziva commented, holding up a rather large frame that bordered a collection of images. Each image showed Tony, undoubtedly making some big play. There was a scrap of cloth displayed in the corner of the frame, and like the other photographs, it was autographed, with "MVP 1990" inscribed below.

"Be careful with that!" Jimmy exclaimed as he scurried from the kitchen into the living room. "That cost me $300 bucks," he announced proudly.

"Tony made you pay him $300 for a _picture_ of him?" Ziva asked.

"Tony? No…he was in college, he wasn't allowed to sell any of this kind of stuff! I got it from some collector off of EBay!"

"You paid $300 for a signed picture of DiNozzo?" McGee asked in disbelief.

Palmer grinned. "It was a total steal! I've seen single autographed pictures go for more than that! This came with a piece of his jersey that he wore at every away game of his junior year!"

"That is…disgusting." Ziva pinched her nose.

"Are you kidding? This is awesome!" Jimmy crowed, his excitement not dimmed in the least by his skeptical friends.

"Does Tony know you have this?" McGee was curious.

"Oh yeah…he tried to pay me back the money once he'd found out what I'd paid for it. Said it wasn't worth it."

"I'd have to agree with Tony on that one, Palmer," McGee said.

"Then you'd be wrong, Timmy!" Abby cut in, bringing them freshly-made Ohio State cookies. "It was worth every penny! This is the only one in existence and trust me, huge college basketball fans would know how much it's really worth! Not that Jimmy would ever sell it, because it's Tony and Tony is our friend and so we take great care of all of our Tony stuff."

McGee immediately backed off the subject. "I know you do. I'm sure Tony's glad you own it, Jimmy," he finished, turning to the young ME assistant.

"Now what are we doing just standing here? We're missing the second half! I can't wait for Ohio State to bust this game open and ruin your bracket McGee!" Abby exclaimed.

"Hey!"

"I'm winning this pool, McGee. Eliminating the competition one stupid pick at a time!"

"Hey, picking Duke was not _that_ stupid!" McGee protested.

"Yeah, but picking against Ohio State was, McGee," Ziva smirked.

Abby nodded vigorously. "That's it, Ziva! We'll make a basketball fan out of you yet."

"She probably has no idea who Duke is," McGee muttered under his breath.

"He is a member of nobility, McGee." Ziva's silky whisper in his ear made him jump. "Second in rank to a monarch, or ruler of a duchy," she finished with a satisfied smirk.

"Not that kind of Duke, Ziva." McGee cringed.

"Whatever. You are just upset that I know more about basketball than you do."

Abby grinned asMcGee let his head fall into his hands as the second half continued and Ohio State continued to prove that his bracket-making skills were subpar at best.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"O-H!" Yelled Jimmy as the final buzzer went off to signify an Ohio State win.

"IIIIII-OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" responded Abby, leaping up and bouncing around the room with Tony's basketball, humming the "Buckeye Bounce" song loudly.

McGee and Ziva just watched as the two celebrated their team, smiling at their exuberance.

"I can see why you Americans enjoy basketball so much," Ziva said, as Abby grabbed her hand and tried to get her to dance.

"I'm never filling out a bracket again," McGee lamented, shaking his head as he viewed all of the "x's" over the games.

"Aw, cheer up Timmy! If I win, I'm taking everyone out for drinks with my winnings! But if you don't stop moping, you won't be invited," Abby threatened.

"That's really nice of you, Abby," McGee smiled, already feeling better.

"Now that's the spirit, Timmy! Basketball brings people together!"

"It is too bad that Tony was hurt so badly doing the sport that he loves so much," Ziva contemplated aloud, distracting them all from their jubilee.

She truly had enjoyed watching the game. To excel, a player needed finesse, skill, jumping ability, speed, coordination, and agility. Ziva had been impressed by the fluid movements of the players, by the crisp passes, by the powerful leaps, and of course, by the accurate shooting as she watched ball after ball arch into the small hoop. To know that her partner had once been one of the best players in the league at this fascinating game, well, it was amazing.

"Yeah, actually, that's not exactly right…" Jimmy answered, realizing they had never really explained Tony's injury to the rest of the team. "He actually hurt himself playing football…"

"Are you serious?" McGee gasped. "Why was he playing football? A star player should know not to play pickup football, even if it's touch! There are so many freak injuries that come from that!"

"McGee!" Ziva exclaimed.

"What? I'm just saying! You hear about it all the time—a pro player has a freak accident playing a sport for fun on an off day. I'm not saying it's Tony's fault, I'm just saying…" He thought for a moment. "Wow, that must have sucked for him."

"Not really," said Palmer, receiving a bunch of weird looks. "No! What I mean, is yeah, it sucked…but Tony didn't get hurt just messing around with some buddies…he was hurt in his last career game as the star kick returner for Ohio State."

"What?" McGee gasped. "Tony, was on the _actual_ football team. Like THE Ohio State Buckeye powerhouse football team? How is that even possible?"

"You didn't know that, McGee?" Abby exclaimed.

"No! Well, I mean, Tony's made comments about being on a football team in college, but I figured it was a fraternity league, or intramural, or club, or something…"

"Nope, Tony was the real deal, McGee." Abby said, very seriously.

"I don't believe it…I mean, I do…but…wow." McGee couldn't say anything more. Tony was naturally athletic, and he'd known he'd been on teams in college, but he hadn't really ever cared to figure out exactly what teams. Tony didn't talk about it that much and McGee had never been a huge sports guy to begin with, so he'd never really asked Tony to elaborate.

He was impressed with Tony. As much as the Senior Field Agent annoyed him, he considered him a close friend, and had looked up to him from the second he'd joined the MCRT. Even if that part of his life was over, these feats he was just now learning about were astounding accomplishments—he wished he'd known this about his partner earlier. Not that it would have changed anything about their relationship, but maybe it would have helped him understand Tony better. There were just so many things about his partner's past that were a mystery to him, and after finally figuring out this one, he now wondered if he would ever know Tony's whole story.

Finally he was able to respond. "Ok, it's starting to sink in…but I have one more question. And don't get mad at me for doubting Tony, it's just that, I've never heard of this…" he warned. "How did Tony get his basketball coaches to allow him to play football after the kind of season that he had?"

"Tony is quite the sweet-talker, yes?" Ziva suggested.

"To women, Ziva. Not to a bunch of old guys who want to protect their investment," McGee replied.

"I'm not really sure exactly," Jimmy responded. "Today, it would probably never happen, but back then it was a little less stringent—there was probably less money at stake than there is now. College athletics have changed quite a bit."

"For good reason, it seems," Ziva commented.

Palmer thought about it. "Yeah, I mean, if Tony hadn't have played football, he'd probably be some big name basketball superstar playing in the NBA…"

"And that would be terrible!" Abby cried. "Because then we wouldn't know Very Special Agent DiNozzo and I would be so distraught all the time because he wouldn't go bowling with me and the nuns and I would have no one to take me clubbing or to do all-day movie marathons with!"

"Not to mention, the lives he has saved," Ziva said solemnly.

"That's why Tony hates thinking about his basketball career…he feels like he's putting his dreams before the lives of the people he's saved!" Abby exclaimed.

Realization finally struck McGee and Ziva. Any thoughts of disappointment or resentment that Tony had not shared any details about his athletic career vanished without a second thought.

"He should not have to feel that way." Ziva said.

"Yeah, I mean, it's only natural that he misses his career…it was his life!" McGee added.

"Deep down inside, I think he knows that," Palmer said.

"Yeah, and if he doesn't, Gibbs is probably slapping it into his head right about now!" Abby said.

"Tony is with Gibbs?" Ziva questioned.

"Where else would he be?" Abby said matter-of-factly.

"Well, _we_ need to be in front of the TV! It's 9:00!" Palmer yelled, turning the TV back on, finally sure that the team was ready to learn the truth about their partner.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and please review! Next chapter should be up Sunday or Monday, I believe. And we will finally get to see this TV special that Tony is such a big part of. Hope you enjoyed!_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **_I would like to apologize for the almost week-long wait. There were a few technology issues, but they are all resolved now. I am so happy everyone is enjoying this story so far and I would like to thank everyone who reviewed - you guys are awesome! I would also like to thank my beta reader, ncismom, for all of her help with this chapter. This is the long-awaited ESPN TV Special. I hope you like it - I'm a bit of a sports nerd, so I've tried to capture what these highlight reels can sound like. This is in no way affiliated with the real ESPN, or NCIS for that matter. And finally, once again, no offense to Louisville, Arkansas, or Michigan, they were just lucky (or unlucky) enough to be chosen for my story. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The TV special had just begun and to Abby's great relief, they hadn't missed any coverage on Tony.

They watched as each of the selected players were featured—their stories told, their biggest moments examined. Each segment featured interviews with the player, as well as his teammates, coaches, and fans, lauding the player's excellence.

All of a sudden, the music changed a bit, the tempo setting a more urgent tone, as quick flashes of Tony appeared on the screen and the announcer introduced their final honoree.

_But with all of these success stories, we must take the time to remember the greats that had a profound, yet short-lived impact on the game of college basketball._

The screen showed Tony spinning around two defenders, faking left, before performing a perfect jump shot. He looked like a natural, watching the ball arc through the air as he back pedaled, confident it would go in.

_Anthony DiNozzo emerged as one of the best players in the history of the NCAA during his junior season at Ohio State. A varsity starter since his freshman year, DiNozzo's consistent play, unquestioned leadership, and clutch moments made him a well-known and feared player around the country._

_But it was DiNozzo's ever-present charisma, his natural composure under the spotlight, and his intelligence and leadership among his teammates and peers that endeared him to Buckeye Nation._

The TV flashed between pictures of amazing plays on the court, and Tony interacting with fans on the streets of Ohio State. Despite the thousands of people that were crowding him, Tony was always smiling, and McGee could almost hear Tony's easygoing voice connecting with all of his supporters in the same way he'd witnessed Tony do since the day they'd met.

"_DiNozzo was one of a kind," _said one ex-teammate, who was now being interviewed on screen. _"I've never seen a guy so collected all the time. I mean, that kid got mobbed…and I mean _mobbed_ on his way to class after big games. And he'd just crack a smile and run with it. He knew how to be a superstar."_

_DiNozzo _was_ a superstar, _the announcer continued. _With steady growth during his freshman and sophomore seasons, DiNozzo was prime for a breakout season his junior year, and he did not disappoint._

"_I think everyone knew that this was gonna be his year," Tony's old coach was now saying. "Everyone but Tony. Tony never realized how good he was—I still don't know if he's realized it yet. I could count on that kid for anything. We'd be down by 10 with 5 minutes left and he'd go, 'Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Coach—I know you're no good with press conferences after a loss anyways.' And then he'd go out there, and he'd just light up the court. No one could take their eyes off him. He'd score on offense, and then, quick as a bullet, he'd be back on defense, makin' a steal that only a crazy person woulda tried. And then he runs right back up the court and sinks a 3…and all of a sudden, he's cut the lead in half and there's still 4 and a half minutes on the clock. But that's DiNozzo. That's DiNozzo."_

More plays continued to run, and McGee and Ziva were speechless as they watched a younger version of their partner put everyone on the court to shame. He had been better than either of them had ever imagined. His fluid movements were almost a work of art. His talent was undeniable. And Tony DiNozzo had an 'X Factor'. No one could pin it down, but the way he played…you knew you were watching something special. You weren't just watching, you were experiencing, you were witnessing the work of a natural, and it was impossible not to be affected.

_DiNozzo wasn't just the pride and joy of Ohio State—the entire country had stopped to take notice of the new sensation that was lighting up Columbus. At a school that everyone loved to hate, DiNozzo's brilliant play, classy attitude, and fun-loving approach to the game were slowly breaking all barriers within the nation._

"_DiNozzo?" said one current NBA player that had been beaten by DiNozzo three times in his college career. "God I hated playin' that guy. Made us look like high schoolers. You'd watch tape and think you had him all figured out, but he'd just give you that smile and all of a sudden he's duckin' past you and the ball's on its way to the hoop, and if ya tried to do anything to stop him at that point he'd be going to the line and you'd just be shakin your head. Just wish he'd been on my team."_

_Everyone in the nation wanted DiNozzo on their team, and for good reason: the Buckeyes lost only one game that season—a game that DiNozzo sat out with a bad case of the flu. _

_OSU entered the tournament as the number one seed and proceeded to crush every team on its way to the Final Four. DiNozzo was a force in every game, scoring at least 25 points per game, leading the team in steals, and in forced fouls._

_But it was in the final two games of the tournament that Anthony DiNozzo showed the world why everyone couldn't stop talking about him. In the Final Four game against Louisville, the Buckeyes were down by 2 with 7 seconds left in the game._

Palmer animatedly pointed at the TV, signaling that this had been the moments he'd so accurately acted out for them.

_The score was 74-72, and DiNozzo had already posted 30 points on the board for the Buckeyes. Everyone knew who was going to get the ball. It would be up to DiNozzo to end it._

The screen flashed to the big play and the voiceovers surrendered for a moment to the game-day announcers, as they broadcast the final seconds of the game.

"_This is it for Ohio State. They need a three right here," came the voice of the primary announcer._

"_They're gonna try and get it to DiNozzo. He's pretty heavily guarded, but it's their only shot at winning," the secondary announcer chimed in._

"_DiNozzo's done it all for them in this series. But they need him to come through again right here. And…he makes an incredible leap over the defender and gets the ball! He lands and fakes right, and spins around the defense. Five seconds! He's got two men on him, but he sidesteps a little and gives another fake. Three seconds. He's off balance but he takes the shot. There's no way…YES YES! It's in! It's in and the Buckeyes win it! Anthony DiNozzo wins it with an off balance three pointer to beat the buzzer and sends the Buckeyes to the Championship! I don't believe it!"_

_It was an unbelievable shot... _

The voice over was back, and the screen showed Tony being mobbed by his teammates, by cameras, and by fans storming the court. A big grin was plastered on his handsome face. It was the picture of triumph.

…_but he took it all in stride, ever aware that he and his team had one more enormous battle ahead._

Tony's young, sweaty, exuberant face filled the screen as he was interviewed, with shouts of "Tony! Tony!" threatening to drown him out.

"_I feel great, but we can't be happy, we can't get complacent. This is just another step towards our goal. We've still got the big one ahead of us." _

The music changed yet again, slowing down significantly as the final game was introduced.

"_DiNozzo always knew," a teammate was saying, "he always knew that there was only one goal, one reason for playing: the National Championship. He wouldn't let us party, wouldn't let us celebrate just yet. The next day we had 8 am practice, and Tony was there at 6. That's dedication. That's what won us the Championship."_

_That championship was within his grasp. One more game. But as everyone knows, in one game, everything can change. In one game, anything can happen, and DiNozzo made that Championship happen._

The screen showed the tipoff of the final game. Quick cuts showed play after play on both offense and defense as Tony outshined everyone on the court. And yet, their opponents, Arkansas, stayed within reach, and in the fourth quarter, actually went ahead after an impressive run by two of their senior forwards. But with DiNozzo, it seemed there was no way the Buckeyes could lose.

"_And we are down to the final half minute, the Buckeyes are down by three," said announcer number one._

"_You've gotta believe they're gonna try and get it to DiNozzo again," the second commentator pointed out the obvious._

"_DiNozzo starts up the court with the ball. He's gotta be thinking about how well Arkansas has been defending the perimeter all game…I don't know if he'll be able to get a solid three-pointer off."_

"_Never underestimate DiNozzo, partner. That's something we've learned all series."_

"_You're right about that, but it seems Ohio State is having trouble setting up. They only have twenty seconds to go, and now there goes DiNozzo! He muscles down the lane and drives it in for the layup, the Buckeyes are within 1!"_

"_We've got a game here! We've got a game!" crowed the second broadcaster excitedly._

"_The Buckeyes are hoping to foul here and get the ball back for one last chance. They'll try to at least force overtime."_

"_And, the ball is inbounded. Garner slowly dribbles down the court. Seven seconds! The Buckeyes had better foul him soon…and here comes DiNozzo! And…he steals it! Oh my God, he just ripped that ball right out of Garner's hands. A completely clean play! Four seconds. He's got one man on him. He fakes and goes up for the jumper. Two. One. And it's in! It's in! It's in! Anthony DiNozzo has just done it! He's won it again! Is there anything that man can't do?"_

The team watched as Tony was yet again mobbed by the entire arena. Slow motion replays graced the screen as they witnessed yet again, the impossible steal that only DiNozzo would try, and then the last second jumper that won it for his team.

"_I'd just like to thank my coaches and my teammates. They deserve this so much…oh god, so much! Thank you guys! I wouldn't be here without you!" an overwhelmed Tony was saying to a pretty reporter. "This is for Ohio State, for Columbus. Thank you guys for believing in us!"_

"_That kid is special," Tony's coach declared, as the cameras showed him wrapping Tony in a smothering hug. "Special as they come. He won it for us. He carried this team, he gave us everything, his heart, his soul, we love him."_

"_We love DiNozzo!" the camera taped a bunch of fans on the court as they celebrated with their team._

_The entire nation had fallen in love with him. He'd given America some of the best basketball they had ever seen, and in return, the love just poured in._

The TV showed parades and celebrations throughout Columbus, and Tony was in the center of it all, always gracious, always the epitome of class.

"_If I had to lose to anyone, man, I'm glad it's him," admitted one Arkansas player, after having a few days to decompress from losing the big game. "DiNozzo's a good guy. I'm sure I'll see him at the draft and we can talk there."_

_DiNozzo was virtually guaranteed the coveted Number 1 pick in the NBA Draft, but instead decided to skip the draft and finish out his degree and athletic career at Ohio State—a savvy decision at the time that ultimately cost him a chance at NBA superstardom._

"_I'm gonna stay another year. Get my degree, play some football, play some more basketball, hopefully keep the National Championship with Ohio State, and then I'll go pro. I've got plenty of time for the NBA after I graduate," Tony explained in a press conference. "I mean, it's Ohio State, baby! I can't leave!"_

_DiNozzo's coaches were wary of his decision to play football his senior year. He had been on the team his first three years, and started his sophomore and junior year as an effective kick returner, but times had changed. DiNozzo was now a superstar basketball player, and football seemed to offer too many risks. However, in the end, after a little prodding from the Buckeyes' Special Teams Coach, DiNozzo was allowed to stay on the team, as long as a member of the basketball staff supervised all of his practices._

_The season started out like everything DiNozzo did – successfully._

The screen showed Tony sprinting down the field and juking around defenders as his agility and speed put his team in great field position each drive.

_DiNozzo went on to lead the NCAA in kick returns for touchdowns, as well as total yards on kick returns. Teams in the NFL were beginning to think about drafting him. While DiNozzo was quick to say he'd stay with basketball, that didn't stop the more aggressive teams from contacting him with preliminary offers._

"_I mean, it's flattering," young Tony flashed a dazzling smile during one of his interviews after practice, "but basketball's my sport. Last I checked, I can't play in both leagues, so I'm gonna have to go with the NBA."_

_As it turns out, DiNozzo would not get a chance at either of those leagues. In the last football game of his college career, he once again did everything he could to help his team, but it cost him his entire career…and it cost the nation a great basketball player._

The smiles that had once lit up the teams' faces were gone, replaced by serious and solemn expressions as they watched the end of the special, knowing that however it ended, it would end badly, and yet still hoping that something would change and it would turn into a heartwarming come-back story.

The screen showed Ohio State and Michigan students pouring into the "Shoe" in Columbus. There was coverage of the players getting pumped up, of the band doing its famous "Script Ohio". In between were flashes of Tony, jumping around with his teammates, signing pregame autographs, warming up for the big game.

The voices of the pregame commentators took over.

"_Well it's finally here, folks. The greatest rivalry in college sports, Ohio State and Michigan, about to play out right here."_

"_You've got that right, partner. Ask any of the players what this game means to them, and they'll tell ya, 'It means everything.' This is for bragging rights, it's for pride, for respect. If you go to Ohio State, you've got one thing on your mind, and that's 'Beat Michigan.' And the same goes for these Michigan players."_

"_Well the players get into it, the coaches get into it, and of course, the fans get into it. This is what it's all about. We interviewed Ohio State kick returner, Anthony DiNozzo—and yes, we are talking about _that_ DiNozzo—about the game, and I think he says it best…"_

_Tony appeared on screen, in a pre-taped interview in the locker room after practice. "The Michigan game is huge. It's one of the reasons I needed to play football this season. There was no way I'd sit back and watch while Michigan comes to the Shoe—it's a huge part of being a Buckeye, and I needed to be a part of it. I'm excited for the game, excited to show them what Ohio State football is all about."_

"_Well DiNozzo does sure know a thing or two about winning big games," the first commentator said. "He was the MVP of last year's March Madness and is going to look to be a big factor in Ohio State's game plan today."_

"_Exactly. DiNozzo has been a game changer for the Buckeyes this season, with 11 returns for touchdowns, the most in the league. He's been indirectly responsible for a lot of their offensive scoring, giving his teammates great field position to start off their drives."_

"_Well, he'll be needed today. Michigan is known for their defense, especially with the emergence of senior Brad Pitt, who's been a force all season…"_

The screen now showed a young Brad Pitt, sitting in the locker room, fielding questions about stopping DiNozzo.

"Wait a second," McGee's eyes widened in astonished recognition as he registered the young man's face. "Is that-?"

"McGee! Shush! Abby scolded, but she smiled knowingly to herself.

"_We're all aware of what DiNozzo can do. He's quick and he's unpredictable, so we have to try and contain him on any returns. Our punter and kicker are gonna try and keep the ball out of his hands, but if he gets it, I'm gonna do my best to make sure he doesn't make me look like a fool." _He cracked a smile as he said the last words.

"_Well there you have it; two of the big game changers on either side. Will it come down to them? Kickoff is next!"_

The voice-over was back, setting the stage for the final play of Tony's career as highlights from the game flashed across the screen.

_The game was a low-scoring defensive battle, with neither team willing to give any ground. Matthew Huntersfield and Jerry Creede, the punter and kicker for Michigan, had so far been successful with keeping the ball far away from the dangerous speed of Anthony DiNozzo._

_But with less than 2 minutes left in the fourth quarter, after Michigan had just scored its first touchdown of the game to put the Wolverines up 13-10, DiNozzo would have his chance._

_Creede tried to go with the game plan of kicking the ball into the end zone for a touchback, but DiNozzo had other ideas. Instead of kneeling for the twenty yards, he decided to run from the back of his own end zone, knowing his team had to get into field goal range quickly to at least send the game into overtime._

"_I was over on the sidelines going, 'What the hell?'" said one of Tony's coaches. "But that's DiNozzo for ya. Without that we woulda lost. He risked everything for his team. I just wish…man…I wish it hadn't gone down that way…"_

The game day commentators took over for the final time, and the team witnessed the fateful run as if they were watching the game in real time.

"_Creede sends a booming kick down to the other end. DiNozzo is under it, but way back in his own end zone. He'll probably just take a knee and let his offense take over…but no! He's running with it! DiNozzo's gonna try it! He's done it in basketball, so why not in football! He's got blockers in front, he sees a hole, and he bursts through it! He just ran right through that pile, got hit about fifty times, and he's still up, bouncing off defenders and spinning away from pressure! _

"_At the thirty now, and look at him go! He's getting boxed in, but he's almost to midfield, putting his team in great field position. He's gonna try and bust through the pile again, but no! Somebody missed a block and it's Brad Pitt trying to bring him down just past midfield…but DiNozzo won't go down, he's dragged him another 5 yards before the rest of the Wolverines are able to pile on top and he goes down hard."_

"_Wow, what a run, and the Buckeyes call time out! They've got a chance at this one yet, partner! DiNozzo just can do it all. He was ready to drag the entire Michigan team into the end zone!"_

"_And I've got no doubt he could do it too," the primary announcer said, before realizing that the players had not really broken up. "They seem to be having a little trouble untangling everyone on the field…which is no surprise, DiNozzo was tackled by Michigan's entire coverage team."_

"_That's right, and with Brad Pitt leading the way, DiNozzo's sure to have a few bruises after that one…"_

"_But it'll be totally worth it if they win, anybody'd tell ya that!"_

_But DiNozzo had more than a few bruises, and the trainers were quickly called onto the field as the players got a glimpse at his injury._

"_Oh no, this doesn't look good partner, DiNozzo isn't getting up."_

The camera showed Tony lying on the ground on his side, trying to get up, but then falling over, his eyes clenched shut in pain. Brad Pitt knelt next to him, appearing to be apologizing as he tried to stay out of the trainers' way.

But the worst part was Tony's leg. It was all wrong…it was…bent. Bent in a way that his knee never should have bent, and Tony, seemingly able to finally see through the pain, was looking at it in horror. His face was raw—it was his entire career flashing before his eyes, and then it transformed to just terror mixed with pain as he sat there on the field in front of the whole nation.

Surprisingly, Brad Pitt wasn't freaked, just squatted calmly next to DiNozzo as the paramedics asked Tony a bunch of questions. No wonder he was a doctor. Everyone else had cleared the area, unable either to see the unnatural injury, or to see Tony's face as he started to realize his career was over.

"_It looks like they've called over a stretcher. I just don't believe this. This isn't happening. Not to this young man, not to this young man."_

"_This is it for him, partner. Can't come back from something like this. Everyone in the building knows it. Everyone here, Buckeye or Wolverine, their hearts are breaking for Anthony DiNozzo right now. It's never good to see such a talented, young player go out like this."_

"_The kid's gotta be devastated. And he's talking to Pitt. Would you look at that, he's talking to the kid who just blew out his knee. I believe, is he telling him 'It's gonna be okay.'? I believe he is! Wow, what a player, what a kid! And kudos to Pitt too, he's stayed right next to DiNozzo while every other player ran far away. This is sportsmanship, right here; this is a moment we won't soon forget."_

Tony was carefully loaded into a stretcher and the crowd erupted into cheers. It was a chilling ovation. An ovation for the player that "got up" from an injury, but also an ovation for the basketball player that fans knew, deep in their hearts, would never make another buzzer beater. It was an ovation for the football player that gave _everything _just so that his beloved Buckeyes would have a chance against Michigan,and an ovation for a young man that captured everyone's hearts, no matter what team they rooted for. Tony DiNozzo had made the entire city of Columbus into believers, put the entire campus on his back and made them great; they cheered for the young man whose dreams had been shattered right before their eyes in an attempt to bring another moment of glory to his treasured school.

As the stretcher was loaded off the field, Tony stuck out his hand and shook with Brad Pitt, before raising his arms in the traditional "O-H". The entire crowd responded back with a rousing "I-O" as a tribute to one of the greatest players to ever put on a Buckeye uniform.

_Anthony DiNozzo showed his true self even when everything else seemed to be crashing down. A true sportsman, he extended forgiveness to his opponent with a handshake as he was carted off the field. Then, as his last gesture to the fans that he loved so much, he started the cheer of "O-H" and got a response from everyone in that stadium, saluting one of their greatest players with an "I-O"._

_DiNozzo's career ended that night. His knee hyperextended so badly that it tore his Anterior, Posterior, and Medial Collateral Ligaments, broke his fibula and tibia, and he suffered nerve damage throughout his entire knee. He would go on to finish his degree at Ohio State, but did not play in the March Madness Tournament that year, and the Buckeyes didn't even make the Sweet Sixteen. The NBA draft went on without him, and while DiNozzo himself disappeared from the sporting world, his legacy lives on._

"_We run a 'DiNozzo' Drill in practice now," said one current basketball player. "Steal the ball on one end and make the shot on the other. That guy was insane. We still watch film of him, but no one can ever duplicate it. I hope to one day come close."_

"_DiNozzo was, without a doubt, one of the best college athletes in history," said one ESPN analyst. "He could do it all. I don't think he ever tried something and didn't succeed. He would have been great for the NBA—any city would've been lucky to have him. He was a playmaker, he made things happen. Simple as that."_

"_It's a shame that had to happen to him," said a current NBA star. "I was a senior in high school during his breakout year, and every day I would look forward to my freshman year of college and possibly playing him. I mean, he did everything. Everything. Never seen a better player. He was a game changer. He probably woulda beat me good, but man, I wish I'd had the chance to play him!" _

_The way it all ended leaves everyone to wonder 'what if'? What if, DiNozzo hadn't gotten hurt? What if, DiNozzo had been drafted first? How many rings would he have? How many people would be wearing 'DiNozzo' jerseys right now?_

_Does he have any regrets? In an interview a week after the incident, an understandably distraught DiNozzo announced that he would never play sports at an elite level again._

"_They tell me the damage is too severe," said a young, subdued Tony. "I tried to tell 'em that nothing's gonna stop me, but they say there's no way. So I'm gonna finish my degree, I'm gonna try and move on, and I'm gonna do way more than just walk with a limp. I'll be running around someday, but it just won't be in the NBA."_

"_What will you do instead?" asked one reporter._

"_I don't know…" Tony looked pensive. "Sports were all I knew, sports were all I ever did. So I guess I'll have to find something else. I'd like to…I don't know…help…people maybe…or something like that." He shrugged and then gave a big, charming smile, "I guess we'll see now, won't we!"_

_While we were unable to reach Anthony DiNozzo for a comment, we did find out that he is currently working as a federal agent, so it looks like he's found a way to help people and move on without basketball. _

_And surprisingly, he and Brad Pitt have actually kept in touch._

Brad Pitt suddenly filled the screen, shocking McGee. "It _is_ him!" he exclaimed, but Abby quickly smacked him into silence, so they could hear what he had to say.

"_DiNozzo's doing well, and yeah, we'll go get drinks every once in a while. He was a great player, and it killed me to end his career like that. But we've got no hard feelings or anything. It's behind us, and I'm just glad to say I can count Tony among one of my closest friends."_

_Well there you have it. A brilliant basketball star in the nineties for Ohio State. A flashy kick-returner whose love of the game ended in tragedy. A young man who represented everything that collegiate athletics is all about, who bled Scarlet and Gray to the end, and whose legacy will never be forgotten. Here's to you, Anthony DiNozzo."_

The music picked up as highlights from Tony's career lit up the screen and the TV special came to a close, quickly changing to a series of commercials.

The team didn't move for a second, processing everything they had seen, everything they had learned about Tony DiNozzo.

* * *

_Well there you have it! I hope it lived up to expectations! Please leave a review! I'm hoping to have Chapter 5 up by Saturday or Sunday. Thank you so much for reading!_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: My sincere apologies for the wait; both my beta reader and myself lost power this past week, making it difficult to get this chapter ready to be posted. I want to thank you all for your wonderfully kind reviews! I am so glad you enjoyed the TV segment, and I hope you enjoy the team's reactions to it. I also need to thank ncismom for all of her corrections. And shout out to KatD1359, who expressed interest in seeing the team's reaction to Brad Pitt, something I didn't touch on too deeply...so I wrote about 900 extra words on that! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

As the commercials began, Jimmy reached over for the remote and muted the television until the next game started.

"So…what'd you think?" he asked, surveying his friends' reactions to the segment.

McGee looked over at Jimmy, then over at their display of Tony's memorabilia, his expression showing that he was deep in thought.

The special had been…shocking? Was that it? Even after hearing that Tony had been a 'big deal', he'd never imagined _that_. He'd been a celebrity, an idol - it had looked so natural for Tony. And he'd been good too. Really good. Way better than he'd been expecting. Everything they'd said was true - Tony was one of the most talented basketball players he'd ever seen. Not that he was an expert on basketball, but he knew a good player when he saw one and Tony was better than good; he was one of the best.

And then to see it all end? It was horrifying. It would have been terrible if it had been just anyone, but it was _Tony_, his unlikely best friend, whose leg had been virtually snapped in half in front of the entire country. He'd had to shut his eyes for a second when he saw the expression on Tony's face when he realized what had happened. It was raw emotion, desperation, loss, and then mixed in with probably some of the worst physical pain a human could ever experience.

What would he have done if that had been him? If everything he had ever worked toward in his life had been ripped away in one second, would he have held it together? Would he have had the strength to extend forgiveness to the man who had inadvertently ended it all? Would he have made that one last salute to his fans, trying to tell them that everything would be okay, even though it wasn't?

McGee knew the answer. _No._ No, he couldn't have done any of that. He would have crumbled. He would have broken. He would have lost himself in his online games and shut out the real world.

But this was Tony, and Tony was special. This was the light-hearted jokester that never let anything get him down. Or at least, didn't ever let anyone know that he was down. Did this still affect him? It had to, on some level. No one came through that unscathed.

However, Tony wasn't "unscathed". He was hurting. Not all of the time, but there were definitely moments. Like now—during March Madness. McGee couldn't even imagine what it would be like for Tony to have to watch the Tournament every year, to remember what he'd done, to be reminded of what he was missing. In fact, Tony didn't really watch any basketball, now that McGee thought about it; but he did watch football. Maybe because although football had ended his career, Tony had never seen himself as a true football player—watching football was not a reminder of what he could not have, but basketball was.

"It was…very detailed," came Ziva's assessment, breaking McGee out of his thoughts.

McGee sputtered a little. "Detailed? Ziva, it was…" He still could not find the right word.

"Devastating?" Abby gave a big sniff. "This just makes me want to give Tony the biggest hug in the whole world!"

"Well, yes. The ending was quite…terrible," Ziva explained. "But I am talking about the entire thing. I rather enjoyed the beginning. Tony was quite good, was he not?"

"Good? He was spectacular, Ziva! He was Superman! He was like Michael Jordan on steroids!...okay, maybe not _that_ good. But still! He was Captain Clutch! There was nothing he couldn't do!"

"I just can't believe…" McGee was still searching for the right words. "And to think that _Brad Pitt_ was the one to break Tony's leg?" He wondered how _that _had gone down in the isolation room all those years ago. Tony, lying on a hospital bed, weakened and coughing up blood, finding out that the very doctor that was supposed to be saving his life had been the young man who had seemingly ended it on the gridiron.

"Yes! Tony had mentioned him before. He told me he was getting a drink with one of his friends…a Brad Pitt! But he assured me he was not the actor. I did not realize who this Brad Pitt was to him…" Ziva contemplated, still unaware that Brad Pitt was also Tony's doctor during his bout with the Plague.

"So, you knew, Abby? When did you find out?" McGee inquired, curious as to what exactly had transpired when the two had met up again, this time in the hospital.

"McGee! You think I trust just anyone with Tony's health? I checked up on him the minute Tony was admitted."

"Wait, that means…the first time we went to visit Tony? You knew?" he asked, but then his eyes flickered with realization. "That's why you were so short with him! I thought you were just stressed about Tony-"

"Wait, why was Abby stressed about Tony? Was he injured?" Ziva interrupted, confused.

"Brad Pitt was Tony's doctor when he was infected with Pneumonic Plague, Ziva," Abby finally explained.

Ziva made a small "o" with her lips as she was finally brought back on board the conversation, and Abby continued.

"Yeah, I was really mad at him at first – I was thinking about hitting him, but I didn't because I wasn't sure if he could treat Tony with a concussion. And yes, Palmer, before you argue, I _have_ given someone a concussion with just one strike. _Don't _ask." She pointed a menacing finger at the autopsy assistant before perking right back up. "But then, I went back the next day, because I couldn't stand to leave Tony there for very long with that monster without protection…not that Tony needs protection, because he's all strong and brave and muscular, but at the time, he was all weak and vulnerable, kinda like a newborn kitten, if the newborn kitten had pneumonia, which would be so sad-"

"Abby!" Ziva snapped.

"Right! So anyways, I went back and I confronted him about it, and told him that if I even suspected that he hurt Tony again, no one would ever find his mutilated corpse. He looked really shocked…but not shocked like 'oh my god, this girl just threatened to kill me,' but more like 'why would anyone think that I would ever want to hurt poor Tony?'. And then he explained everything, and told me that Tony knew who he was and that he was sorry about what happened to Tony and that he would make sure that Tony came through this alive, because it was the least he could do. So then, I gave him a hug, and now we're friends!"

"So, Tony was just fine with it? I mean, I know they still keep in touch, but that was before I knew their history…" McGee was still perplexed. _How was Tony so willing to forgive and forget? His past athletic career was obviously still a painful subject for him, yet he was able to not only get drinks with the guy, but trust him with his health?_

"Yeah, he was totally cool about it, at least, according to Kate," Abby sobered for a moment at the mention of her long lost friend. "She told me she'd gotten annoyed at how chummy the two were getting…that was, before she knew that Tony was sick of course. Apparently, they were joking about it, and seemed to really take to each other right away…like Tony had forgotten about the whole thing."

"Maybe Tony was acting?" McGee suggested. "He _is_ pretty good at hiding his real thoughts."

Abby shook her head. "I don't think so, McGee. Kate was really good at profiling people – she really believed that their friendship was genuine. I was really desperate for information, so I kind of told her the whole story, and even in that context, she didn't see any signs that Tony was faking it. She was actually pretty convinced that Tony really liked and respected him – it gave her comfort that he had someone who actually cared about him, treating him."

"It does not surprise me." Ziva commented. "I know I was not there, but I do know Tony. And it seems to me, that while he finds it upsetting that his sporting career was cut short, he does not blame the man that ended it. Tony is a fair man…and a forgiving man; it would not be like him to hold a grudge. I am sure it took tremendous strength of character, but I suppose maybe, at the time, it was easier to joke about the past and move on, rather than confront it when there was clearly no one to blame."

Abby nodded vigorously. "You are so right on, Ziva. That's what Tony does, he jokes. I mean, he was probably also happy to think about something other than white powder and blue lights, and then he finds out his doctor is the same guy that broke his leg? I mean, with all that irony, sometimes you have to laugh!"

"I couldn't have," McGee finally admitted. "No way…I mean, you guys saw all that he lost…and the way his leg was bent…"

"I know," Palmer spoke seriously. "I saw that live, you know. I really was a big fan of Tony, way back when. I cried…when he was carted off the field. Straight up cried. It was just that…he was everything, everything that I'd ever wanted to be, and he was one of the few athletes that didn't take it for granted, you know? Tony always appreciated every opportunity. He wasn't in it for the money, or for the fame, he just played the game. I just couldn't believe that the sporting world had just lost him…"

"You talk as if he were dead, Jimmy," Ziva observed, a little confused.

"I think a part of him did die, that day, Ziva. Not a huge part…I mean, he's still DiNozzo. But when everything you work for the first 20 years of your life is gone, something inside of you has to be gone too."

He paused, and the team contemplated his words. "Sorry," he finally managed. "Didn't mean to put a damper on everything. It's just something I think about a lot, especially this time of year."

"No Palmer, it's okay," McGee said. "I understand what you're saying. Tony must've been devastated after that."

"Well then, it is good that he has found something else that he loves, is it not?" Ziva pointed out.

The film had been enlightening to the ex-Mossad agent. Her initial dossier of Tony had uncovered that he had been a college athlete, but at the time she had been more interested in his career as a federal agent, and his propensity to sleep with good-looking women, something that she had been prepared to use against him in her quest to help Ari.

As she watched the TV segment unfold, she had been impressed with Tony's athleticism, and had truly enjoyed watching him play both basketball and football. She had also been shocked upon seeing such a young version of him, sitting on the turf, studying his leg that was now bent in the completely wrong direction.

She was surprised at how much it hurt her to see him in pain all those years ago. Ziva hated seeing him in true pain, emotional or physical. They had become close over the years, and he was her partner, her brother, and she loved him – not in a way that would break Rule 12, but in a way that neither he nor she could ever explain; however, that didn't make it less real or meaningful.

She was glad that she now knew this part of Tony DiNozzo. They both shared a propensity to keep things in the past bottled up; however, the ex-Mossad agent found that the more she learned about her partner, the more she understood him, and the more she respected him and cared for him. She knew that it was Tony's wish not to discuss this, and for the time being, she would honor it; but she would also find a way to make sure that Tony knew that she knew, and that she was there to support him, should he ever need it.

Palmer gave a small smile. "Yeah, it is. A lot of retired athletes never really recover – Tony's an example of what is possible."

"You seem to know a lot about this, Palmer," McGee commented.

"I uh, well, it's a relatively knew subject of research, and I'm not an expert at all, but as I got to know Tony, I started exploring it a lot more. It's pretty interesting stuff, trying to understand the mind of a retired athlete."

"Yeah, and then add that to trying to understand the mind of DiNozzo. You've got your hands full, Palmer!" McGee joked.

"Oh, I am never gonna try!" Palmer exclaimed. "Not after-"

"Jimmy! We swore we'd never speak of it again!" Abby screeched.

"What? I didn't know that! What's the big deal? Nothing happened!" Jimmy defended.

"Okay, now you _have_ to tell us," Ziva grinned.

"Nope! Don't even think that your tricks will work on me, Ziva! I've got enough voodoo in this apartment to keep me safe from Mossad information extraction techniques!"

"I did not say you would be the one to tell me, Abby." Ziva slowly turned toward Palmer, raising her eyebrows slightly.

It didn't take more than that to break the jumpy assistant.

"Me and Abby tried to hypnotize Tony and figure out what he was thinking!" he blurted out. Abby glared at him. "What? She was going to torture me!"

"Remind me never to trust you with any sensitive information, Palmer," McGee quipped.

Ziva gave an evil laugh. "How did you get Tony to let you hypnotize him?"

"Well, you see…it was Abby's fault! He was sleeping on her futon and she handcuffed him to the table and then we tried it, but he picked the lock while we weren't looking and then locked me to the table and took off with the key!"

McGee and Ziva couldn't help it, they burst out laughing.

"And he stole my Caff-Pow!" Abby exclaimed.

"Seriously? You're complaining about that? I had to sleep on the floor all night until Agent Burris found me the next morning and let me out!" Palmer complained.

"You should have climbed onto the futon," McGee said, as serious as he could.

"Tony stole that too! I found it in one of Ducky's drawers two days later!" Palmer said.

McGee grinned—he loved hearing about Tony pranking someone other than him. "Don't mess with DiNozzo."

"Believe me! I never tried again!" said Palmer.

The team laughed, and settled back into the couch, ready to watch the second game. It took on a new meaning to McGee and Ziva as they watched, and they all kept their Tony in the back of their minds as the game played out in front of them.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"Boss, I ever tell you how glad I am that you don't own a working TV?" Tony asked, announcing his presence as he walked down Gibbs's basement steps.

Gibbs didn't look up from where he was sanding his boat, but he did reach over to the side and produce a glass pre-filled with bourbon—he'd been expecting Tony.

This visit happened every year during the Final Four. The last few games of the NCAA Tournament were the worst for Tony, since those had been the games in which he'd truly defined himself as a player.

Gibbs had known about Tony's collegiate basketball career since the young man had joined his team at NCIS. After working with him on the initial case, he realized that DiNozzo's name was somehow familiar to him – he had definitely heard of him before.

He'd made a few calls and looked Tony up, and before long, he had the whole story, never once having to ask his agent about it. If Tony wasn't going to talk about it, he wasn't going to make him.

Over the years, Tony had come to trust him, and had come to realize that Gibbs knew _everything_. And one day, late in March, he'd found himself in Gibbs's basement. Neither man had had to say anything. They both knew why he was here, they both knew no one would be talking about basketball tonight, and it was okay with both of them.

So here Tony was, awkwardly approaching his boss as he did every year, wondering why Gibbs still put up with him.

"Is that exactly sanitary?" Tony pointed to the glass that Gibbs had set out for him. "I mean, who knows how long that's been sitting there, collecting sawdust and paint chips…"

"Do you want to switch glasses, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with a small smirk, still concentrating on the boat.

"No boss, of course not. I wouldn't want you getting sick from that stuff. Not that you get sick from anything. And not that your bourbon-storage habits are unhealthy…"

"DiNozzo." Gibbs intoned, finally looking up, taking a quick moment to study his agent.

Tony looked okay. Not great, but not as wound up or exhausted as he sometimes was when he sought out Gibbs in his basement. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair a little mussed up, as if he'd just emerged from the shower. He looked tired, but still pretty relaxed – it was a good sign for the night.

"Poured it 2 minutes before you came in. Heard you coming through the door," Gibbs explained.

"Well then, that settles that," Tony said, a little uneasily, as if he was unsure of what to say. The basement was silent as Gibbs just looked at Tony, waiting for him to continue.

"You know, boss," he finally said, and Gibbs hid his amusement at Tony's inability to express his true thoughts. They were so alike in that way. "I uh, actually brought over a six-pack. It's up in the kitchen. I'm not sure if we really need the hard liquor tonight."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"Not that, every night isn't a good night for bourbon, because it is…I mean, look at you! You make it work! But I was just thinking, you were talking about those steaks in the freezer that you were saving for us two when we didn't have a case…" He trailed off, hoping for Gibbs to have mercy. But Gibbs had none; he waited for Tony to keep talking.

"But…it's fine if you already cooked those up. I mean, you've probably had a few hot dates, and you know, what's better to impress the ladies than a home-cooked meal? So uh, yeah, I'll go up and order a pizza…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs finally said.

"Yes boss?"

"Steaks are on the counter, defrosting."

"Oh. Really? I missed that? I mean, I knew that, I saw them, I was just…making sure they were for us."

Gibbs smirked. "Who else would they be for, DiNozzo?"

"I don't know. McGee? Does he like steak? No way, that guy's gotta be a vegan…I can see his ribs poking out. Maybe we should invite McGee. We've gotta keep the probies fed, boss."

The two men made their way upstairs and got to work preparing their dinner. When they sat down finally, freshly-grilled steaks in front of them and beer in hand, Tony finally brought up what had been on his mind.

"You know where the probies are, boss?" He asked.

"Yep." The answer was simple, succinct, so very Gibbs.

"Yeah, me too," Tony said, suddenly finding the label on his beer bottle very interesting.

"You okay with it?" Gibbs asked, taking the time to study his Senior Field Agent, his blue eyes cataloguing every expression that flashed across the young man's face.

"Mmm-Hmm," was Tony's answer , quickly stuffing another bite of steak into his mouth before Gibbs's stare prompted him to spill his guts.

"You do the interview?" Gibbs questioned.

Tony finally looked up at his boss in surprise, his eyes comically wide. "You knew about that?" he asked, his mouth so full of food that Gibbs was surprised he was able to understand the question.

Gibbs gave a little grimace before ordering, "Chew."

Tony quickly chewed his food and swallowed, looking back at his mentor. "Of course you knew," he paused. "Do you think I should have done it?"

"Your decision, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied.

Tony wasn't satisfied with that answer. He needed to know. "Would you have done it?"

Gibbs considered for a moment. "Nope."

"Then you think I made the right decision?" Tony clarified.

"Never said that…"

"Dammit, Gibbs! I-" DiNozzo's frustration was starting to come out. Gibbs could tell it was directed at the entire situation, rather than at him. Nonetheless, he felt it necessary to cut DiNozzo off quickly, before he said something he'd feel guilty about for the next year or so.

"Hey!" He barked, satisfied with the reaction it invoked.

Tony quickly closed his mouth, staring intensely at Gibbs, looking thoroughly confused.

"I can't say whether or not you made the right decision. But you should be damn proud of what you accomplished Tony, and it's up to you if you want to revisit it ever again…no one else. Ya got that?"

"So you don't think I made a huge mistake? Cutting it all out of my life?" Tony asked.

The headslap was a bit softer than usual, but no less powerful.

"I gotcha, boss. I think," Tony finally said.

Gibbs set down his plate and turned to his second, commanding his full attention.

"Now I'm only gonna say this once, so you better listen. Everyone deals with change differently. The way you dealt with it…" He paused, as if trying to find the right words. "You're doin' a damn good job, DiNozzo. You took a crap situation, and you found a way to find new meaning in it. You're helping people, Tony. You're saving lives and affecting more people than you ever did on that court. It takes a hell of a man to do that, Tony. Always remember that."

Tony was stunned. He just sat there, staring at his boss, dumfounded. Leave it to Leroy Jethro Gibbs to come up with the perfect combination of words to shut him up for good.

"You really think that boss?" Tony finally asked.

This time, Gibbs didn't hold back on the headslap.

"Right, because you never say anything that you don't mean. I think I've got it, Boss."

Gibbs smirked as they settled back into the couch. He was extremely proud of his senior field agent. He had been a little worried about him earlier, knowing that the rest of the team was finding out about Tony's past athletic career and wondering how Tony would take it. For all of DiNozzo's bravado, he was actually quite sensitive when it came to certain things, and Gibbs didn't want to see the man he cared for like a son suffering from the pain of what 'could have been'.

He also knew of the guilt that Tony unnecessarily carried around every day – the guilt he felt whenever he longed just for a taste of what his life would be like as an NBA superstar. He hated that Tony felt like he had to suffocate all of his memories and dreams to avoid feeling guilty for considering a career in the NBA over the lives he had saved as a law enforcement officer. It was a twisted way to look at it, and Gibbs had tried many times to slap his agent out of that mindset, but it never failed to come back each year.

But every year, Tony was making progress. Every year, the sting dulled just a little bit. He may not ever be able to face the memories of his athletic career head on, but he was able to now let his friends in, and let them try to understand what his life had been about 20 years ago.

The silence, like any silence that involved Anthony DiNozzo, lasted only for a few minutes, before the talkative agent spoke up yet again.

"So," he waggled his eyebrows, "what do you think Ziva thought of my athletic prowess?"

Gibbs snorted. Yeah, he was going to be okay.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed the Gibbs/Tony talk - I know a few of you have been asking for that! Thank you so much for reading and please review! 1 more chapter after this :)_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: _This is it! The last chapter! I want to thank everyone who reviewed or alerted or favorited - it really means a lot! I apologize for the wait yet again; this chapter originally ended after the Jimmy/Abby/Gibbs scene, but I realized something was missing...Tony! So, I had to add on. Also, a big Thank YOU to my beta reader, ncismom, for helping me out! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the ending!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Monday morning, as usual, came much too quickly. McGee and Ziva were already in the bullpen when Tony dragged himself in, carrying coffees for his teammates, as he usually did to start every week.

"Good morning, Tony," Ziva smiled as she took the offered coffee.

Tony gave her a small grin, unsure of how his teammates were going to react to the newly discovered information about his past.

"Morning, Zee-vah," he replied as he turned to McGee and produced another cup.

"Thank you, Tony," McGee said brightly, setting the coffee down.

"You are, oh, so very welcome, McMonday." Tony smiled again, quickly returning to his seat and looking for something to busy himself with. A case would be very welcome right about now.

Truthfully, he was a little afraid of his teammates reactions to his secret. It was a sensitive subject for him still, and while a part of him was glad he no longer had to hide, he was growing increasingly anxious around his friends as he tried to figure out exactly what they knew…and what they thought. Would they understand his reason for burying the past? Or would they resent him for once again leaving them out of the loop? More importantly, would they understand that he didn't want to make a big deal of it; didn't want to bring up all of those memories? Did they understand that he didn't want to be known as a basketball superstar anymore?

He slumped a little in his seat as he read and re-read the same sentence on the form in his hand. Tony feared the moment when his ninja partner would decide to saunter up to his desk and demand answers, undoubtedly shadowed by an uneasy McGee.

It didn't help that Probie had been staring at him non-stop for the past 10 minutes. He hadn't glanced up from his still-unread file, but he could sense it all the same. Tony knew there was no way he was leaving the office today without a team confrontation.

For his part, McGee was making less progress than Tony, not even trying to hide behind a pretense of doing work. He scrutinized his partner, amazing plays and impossible shots running through the back of his mind. He let out an involuntary wince as he recalled that devastating moment when the pile of players cleared to reveal Tony, helpless and in pain, lying on the ground, the raw emotion on his face bared before the entire world.

He blinked and refocused on the present, immediately grateful that Tony had not looked up and caught him staring. Now _that_ would be fun to explain.

He didn't go back to work though; instead, he found he couldn't stop analyzing his friend.

Tony had been an amazing athlete; had shown discipline on the court, leadership among his teammates, composure under pressure, all things that he had brought into his job – though at times, some who didn't understand his 'process' might question the discipline part. He'd exhibited true strength and resiliency as he went through a career-ending injury in front of the entire nation, coming out of a week in the hospital with a new goal of 'helping people'. DiNozzo had reconnected with the man that had seemingly ruined his life, at a time in which each breath was a battle won, and beat the odds to not only survive, but to extend an offering of friendship to his one-time opponent.

And he'd never talked about any of it. Never let anyone know exactly how much he had been through to get to where he was today. Never told anyone of his triumphs on the court, or allowed anyone a glimpse at his selflessness off of it.

It was…odd to think that the Anthony DiNozzo that was sitting just 10 feet from his desk, was the same Anthony DiNozzo that had been mobbed by 20,000 adoring fans after sinking a perfect jumper to win the National Championship. He'd looked so young and talented, so happy and triumphant. The recollection played a stark contrast to the tense agent, hunched over his desk in an attempt to ward off approaches from his team.

It was so…_wrong._ He didn't deserve this. Not after everything that had happened.

But how was McGee supposed to handle this? Was he supposed to treat his partner any differently? No…no way – Tony would hate that. If they came at him too seriously, with kid-gloves, he'd be likely to bolt. Sometimes with Tony, you had to work hard to get to the sincerity.

He looked up at Ziva, who seemed to immediately sense that he wanted her attention, as her head shot up to lock eyes with him. He could tell she had a plan – probably a little banter to get through their senior field agent's defenses, to put him just off his game enough that their words might actually sink in, instead of bouncing off of his usually impenetrable mask with the help of a few self-deprecating jokes.

He'd follow along, and hope that when it came time for him to say something meaningful, he will have found the right words to say.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

Tony was tense. It had been twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of dead silence. _What were they waiting for? _He couldn't work like this, without knowing what they were thinking. It was nerve-wracking; he found himself praying for a dead body.

"So, Tony, how was your weekend?" Ziva finally asked, breaking the silence. Tony was proud to say that he kept his features neutral; it had taken all of his training not to jump at the sound of her voice. _Took you long enough,_ he thought as he slowly looked up at his partner.

She had folded her hands in front of her and was resting her chin on them. Her gaze was harmless, but Tony wasn't taking any chances. They weren't going to get him to spill his guts. No way.

"It was great, just great. You know, the usual…"

"The usual?" Ziva asked, hiding a small smile.

"Yep, you know, hangin' out, watching movies…there was a Magnum marathon all day Sunday!" Tony said, with almost too much enthusiasm.

"Sounds…fascinating." Ziva didn't sound quite convinced.

"Oh, it was…it was," Tony said, reverting his attention back to his emails.

"Don't you want to know how our weekend was, Tony?" McGee asked, apparently going along with Ziva's lightly-teasing approach.

Tony looked up. "Hmm? Oh, um, nope, not really…" he said in a distracted voice.

"You don't? You always want to know, Tony," McGee pressed. Tony could actually tell that his probie wasn't exactly comfortable with how they were digging; neither was he, for that matter. But, he could also tell that his teammates meant no malice by it, it was just a part of their dynamic.

Tony played along, pretending to be offended. "I do not _always_ want to know," he said indignantly.

"Yes, you do," Ziva confirmed.

"Okay, okay," Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. "How was your weekend?" He cocked his head and said the words deliberately, as if to show that his interest was forced.

"It was fine, thank you," Ziva replied.

Tony gave another small smile and a short nod, and then started filling out some forms he'd been procrastinating about all week.

"You know," Ziva said, after a small respite, "we watched a very interesting TV special on Saturday night."

Tony slumped a little. This was what he had been afraid of. Here came all of the comments, all of the pitying looks, all of the questions that he didn't have the right answers to. Oh, well, he'd better get it over with now.

He gave a fake smile, leaning back on his chair and throwing his hands behind his head, trying to look relaxed. "Oh, you did? How…nice."

"Yeah, Tony," McGee chimed in. "Abby and Jimmy showed it to us."

"Well that was hospitable of them," Tony's voice had gone up a couple of octaves. He had been initially fine with his team watching the segment about him, but it now it seemed like a big mistake, allowing them to do it. He'd never live it down.

"You were…a very good basketball player, yes?" Ziva had now approached his desk, and he could see McGee getting up out of the corner of his eye.

"I was okay," Tony allowed, not wanting any more to be made of it than was absolutely necessary.

"You were more than okay, Tony," McGee corrected.

"Why thank you, Probie. Would you like an autograph or a photo-op?" Tony was clearly stressed.

"We just, wanted to say, that we are proud of you…and that, although it is…a shame…that your career ended so soon, we are…happy, to know you." Ziva spoke, her every word was sincere.

Tony had not been expecting that. Some teasing about the uniforms, maybe. Or apologies about his career ending, or something. Not that. He studied Ziva carefully.

"Thanks," he finally said.

She nodded. "You are welcome," Ziva quietly replied, and with a kind smile, she left his desk.

McGee was still standing there, however.

"I need a pen if you want me to sign something, McStarstruck." Tony cracked, now slightly more at-ease since Ziva had left.

McGee gave a small chuckle. "I don't need an autograph, Tony. I just…"

Tony exaggeratedly raised his eyebrows in expectance.

McGee let out a breath. "You were a really good player, Tony…"

"Yes, I think we've already established that," Tony prodded, but his voice was not unkind.

"Just, let me-" McGee stumbled, frustrated.

"Sorry." Tony sincerely apologized.

"I couldn't have done that—what you did…" he began, but Tony had to interrupt, he couldn't resist.

"Well, I know that, McGee! It's been obvious since day one that you have no Hops!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" McGee exclaimed, exasperated. Across the bullpen, Tony could see Ziva smirk at their brotherly bickering.

"Anyways," McGee valiantly pressed on, in spite of how difficult Tony was making it. He supposed Tony was doing it unconsciously, as a small defense against how uncomfortable he clearly was with the subject.

"I just wanted to say, that I'm glad to count you among my closest friends, and that…you're one of the strongest people I know. So if you…ever need to talk or anything…I'm here." He looked steadily at his partner, hoping that Tony wouldn't crack a joke.

But Tony was looking right back at him, an odd expression on his face. He finally seemed to snap out of it. "Thanks, Tim. That, uh, means a lot." He gave a quick nod, as though embarrassed.

As Tim turned towards his desk, Tony let out a long breath. "Well, now that that's over with…" he muttered.

"Oh, we're just getting started, DiNozzo," Gibbs announced, striding into the bullpen. "Grab your gear, dead sailor at Norfolk."

"Finally!" Tony was so glad to be done with cold cases.

Gibbs stopped in front of his desk and glared.

"Sorry, boss. Not that a dead sailor is a good thing…" Tony backpedaled.

Gibbs's glare did not let up. McGee and Ziva hurried past him to hold the elevator. For a moment, Tony was confused as to why Gibbs was so concerned about his eagerness to get to a crime scene, before he realized, Gibbs had been listening in. This was about the _other_ thing.

"Everything's good, boss," he assured. "They know, and…everything's still good."

Gibbs gave a nod and a smirk. "Good." As he turned on his heel, Tony was right behind him as always, just as the team was behind Tony.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Late that afternoon, Tony went down to Abby's lab. The case was looking to be a pretty quick one, but he wanted to make sure the evidence was backing their theory up.

"Abs! Do you know if Jimmy's around?" Tony asked as he walked into the lab.

"Here!" came an excited voice, a little too close to his ear. Tony jumped.

"Palmer! Personal space! Geez!"

Jimmy immediately backed off. "Sorry! Abby told me you would be down soon and I wanted, well, we wanted, to talk to you, so I figured I would wait right by the doorway."

"Abby told you I was coming?" Tony was confused.

"Of course I did! You come visit me every Monday afternoon around this time!" Abby bounced out of the back room.

"I do?"

"Yup! I write down all of your visits in my 'Tony Log' so I can predict when you're coming!"

"That's…" Tony tried to be polite, but couldn't find the word.

"Flattering? Well, you're welcome! Now, we have to talk Mister!"

"We do?" Tony asked, hoping he wouldn't have to talk about basketball yet again.

"Don't worry, I'll be quick, I swear!" Abby promised, dragging him into the back room, and then shutting the door once Jimmy joined them.

Tony tried to put on a smile as he faced them. "Well, I'm here. So, uh, what do you need?"

Abby turned completely serious. "Tony, we watched the TV segment that ESPN did."

Tony gave an exaggerated nod, urging her to continue.

"First of all, you looked awesome out there, as always, so don't worry about that…"

"I was worried," Tony feigned solemnity.

"And the end of the video…was kinda sucky, considering its content," she continued.

"That's to be expected…unless you're a Michigan fan," Tony tried to joke.

"Hey!" Abby punched him. "Even Michigan fans were upset…no one wanted that to happen!" Thankfully, Palmer jumped in before the floodgates opened.

"But," he placed a comforting and restricting hand on Abby's shoulder, "we just wanted to tell you that it was well-done…a very good tribute to you, and that McGee and Ziva really understand what happened now."

"We just want you to know that we are all here to support you and that we think it's a good thing that everyone knows now and we don't ever want you to feel like we pity you or we blame you or anything…" Abby was starting to get emotional.

"Hey, hey," Tony said softly, wrapping her in a hug. "It's fine. Everything's fine…"

"You mean it? Like real fine, not 'Tony fine'?" Abby sniffed.

"Of course…wait, what's 'Tony fine'?" Tony released her from the hug and held her at arm's length.

"You know, when you say you're fine and you're really bleeding out of every orifice? That kind of fine," she supplied.

Tony was indignant. "I do _not_ do that!"

Both Abby and Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, you do," they said together.

Tony shook his head, his mouth open in comic disbelief. "I have not, ever, bled out of every orifice…and I resent the implication that I have!"

"Oh come on, Tony! We all know you have the worst luck in the whole agency!" Jimmy exclaimed, making him the next recipient of a punch from Abby.

"I…do not!" Tony protested.

Abby once again approached Tony for a hug, sending Palmer a glare over Tony's shoulder. "We're just making sure you're doing okay because we love you, Tony."

Tony awkwardly patted her back. "Um, thanks, I guess. Well then, good talk…" He tried to back away.

"Wait!" Abby grabbed his arm. "So everything is okay for real? You're not gonna go feel bad or sad or guilty or troubled or perplexed or discombobulated or upset or dismayed or-"

Tony gently put a finger to her lips. He tilted his head so that his gaze met hers. "I am fine, Abs. I promise. But, thank you, for everything. I mean that," he said. He had never been more sincere in his life.

He then turned to Palmer. "That goes for you too, Black Lung! You're the best friend a guy could ever have!" Though his tone was lighter, he was no less earnest.

"I've gotta get back up to Gibbs before he has a coronary, but I'll see you two soon!" he said, giving them a genuine smile before departing.

Abby and Jimmy looked at each other, a grin lit up each of their faces. "He's back," Jimmy raised his hand for a high five.

"Oh Jimmy, he was never gone!" Abby brought her hand up to his.

"We make a pretty good team, you know that," he commented.

"We sure do," she answered, still smiling.

"Too bad, one of us has to lose the bracket pool."

"Yep. Too bad."

They still hadn't made eye contact.

"Hey! You think it's gonna be me!" Jimmy accused, his smile now completely gone as he turned to face Abby.

"Oh Jimmy, I _know _it's gonna be you," Abby's smile got bigger as she skipped back to her machines.

"You can't know that!" he protested.

"Palmer. I know everything. Now, go, you're distracting me!"

"No! I will not go until you admit that either of us has a chance."

"You should probably leave now, Palmer…" Abby warned.

"I am not going!" Palmer said petulantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I suggest you listen to her, Palmer," Gibbs interrupted, having entered completely unnoticed by the assistant.

"Uh, Agent Gibbs, I uh, Abby thinks that…" Gibbs just glared. "I'm gonna go now," Palmer said, scurrying out of the lab.

"Hey Gibbs!" Abby greeted, having known the whole time that Gibbs was there.

"Abby," Gibbs returned.

"You think I'm gonna win the pool, right?" She asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Sure do, Abs."

"Exactly, because it's never a good idea to root against Tony and his Buckeyes! In fact, I'm making that Abby's rule number 7, in honor of Tony's number!"

And with a kiss on the head, Gibbs replied, "I think that's a real good rule, Abs. A real good rule."

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

Later that night, Tony let himself into his apartment, balancing his favorite pizza in one hand and awkwardly jamming his keys into the lock with the other.

He hadn't been expecting to get home for dinner that night; the crime scene had been a messy one, and in his experience, messy was equated to long and arduous. However, this time, 'messy' had been more like 'sloppy'. Their killer hadn't even taken the time to wipe down the murder weapon that he dropped at the scene. They'd put out a BOLO and he'd been picked up by Metro a few hours later on a traffic violation. A half hour in the interrogation room with the tag team of Gibbs and himself, and he'd pled guilty to the murder of his cheating wife. Open and shut – just what he'd needed today.

And to top it all off, Gibbs had allowed them to hold off their reports until the next morning, so he'd gotten out at 1800 – the earliest he'd left the office in about 10 years.

He'd used the extra time to go on a nice run; nothing like the solid pounding of shoes on pavement, the steady rhythm of his hard breathing, and the crisp March air to clear his thoughts.

He actually found himself relieved that McGee and Ziva knew his secret; not that he'd actively kept that information secret, but he certainly hadn't made any efforts to tell them. It was private – something that he had always dealt with by himself, and something that he didn't need outside input on…or so he had thought.

To know that all of his close friends were aware of it, and that all of them respected his wishes to, for the most part, leave it alone, was significant. It was evident that they understood him, respected him – and the knowledge was finally enough to put him at ease.

Basketball was no longer a part of his life, but NCIS was. All that he'd lost in that final game, while it could never be replaced, had at least been made up for in a different way. Even all those years ago, he'd known in his heart what he wanted to do – help people. And he was doing it. While he may never have the feeling of an entire campus mobbing him after a heroic play, now, at the end of a case, he felt the warmth and the satisfaction of bringing closure to loved ones, or the relief of saving a person's life and allowing them to live their dreams.

They were different sorts of feelings. One, more intense, more…fleeting – the feeling of sinking that final shot, of being hoisted up on the shoulders of the very city that you'd carried all season. The other: deeper, more gratifying and profound – the feeling of saving lives and giving victims second chances, and the feeling of locking away forever, those that choose to hurt the innocent. Despite their differences, they were both…fulfilling – it had just taken about 20 years to recognize that.

_Better late than never_, he thought to himself as he set his gear down, settling down on the couch with his pizza and a beer.

He fingered the remote aimlessly as he chewed. It was 2000. The National Championship game would be starting any minute now.

Abby and Palmer were probably about ready for a knock-down, drag-out fight; he'd been hearing their bickering all day about who would win the pool. Obviously it would be Abby, and not just because he'd knew she could take Jimmy in a fight any day. Abby would win the pool because she had his Buckeyes, and while he hadn't watched college basketball in 20 years, he was confident they'd come out on top.

Maybe McGee and Ziva were there as well, returning to share in the tradition that Abby and Jimmy had started years ago.

His finger hovered over the power button. 20 years was a long time. Was it enough?

What would happen if he clicked the button? Would he be unaffected? Would he be struck down by memories, crippled by the 'what if?' that hovered over his head? Would he actually enjoy it, embrace seeing the young talent on his old team, reminding him of the good times he'd had?

He didn't know. Truly, he didn't.

He set down the remote. _Now was not the time._

For once, the decision didn't seem like a cop out, didn't seem like an excuse to bury his memories. Instead, it was a promise to himself: _Not now, but one day._

One day he would turn it on. One day, he would reconnect with his old sport, with his old stomping grounds. However, it wouldn't be like this – alone, after he'd just stressed for an entire week about the tournament.

No, it would be with his teammates, with Gibbs. He'd let Abby know, let her throw one of her over-the-top parties, and he'd face it with his team to support him. He'd never been a fan of having an audience to his emotions, but his friends weren't an audience, they were a support system, and for once, he felt confident in letting them all in.

He missed basketball, and for the first time in a long while, he realized how much he wanted to come back to it; all it had taken was 20 years of avoidance, an annoying ESPN segment, and the help of his team.

Anthony DiNozzo, #7, star point guard, was long gone, but Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, #2 to the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and heart of the DC MCRT, was here to stay.

Next year, maybe he'd even allow the two to meet.

~END~

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your support throughout this story. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought! _

_To answer inquiries about an epilogue...yes, I did leave it open for one. Possibly with Tony finally watching a Final Four or National Championship game with his team. I don't have a timeline on this because I don't want to rush it and ruin the feel for this story, but if you have this on your story alerts, you will know about it the second it's posted._

_As for other stories. I am working on a Tony-centric, serial killer novel, in which a case from his past in Philly comes back to haunt him. You can look at my profile for more details, but it will be called "Uncovered" and will feature competent, angsty, and whumped Tony, solving the case with the help of his team. I'm also working on outlining a "5 Times" fic about Tony, told from the perspective of McGee. Look for these 2 fics in the future (I will basically post as soon as I finish)._

_Again, thank you so much for reading - I really hope you all enjoyed. See you around soon!_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	7. Tag 1 Part A

**Hello everyone! I'm back with a little 3-part tag. I'd like to thank everyone for all the kind messages wondering where I am - I'm still very busy with school and interning, but I'm slowly plugging along. I wrote this in response to a review from ojoje, so I hope you like it! I'm aware it stretches the boundaries of crime scene etiquette, but hopefully that doesn't overshadow the story. Also, Tony's relationship with Sarah - totally made up, just an excuse for a little Tony and Ziva banter :) This is un-betaed but I have read it at least 10 times so hopefully no major mistakes. Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoy!**

**Tag 1: Part A**

**Prompt: A fan recognizes Tony at a crime scene**

**Thanks to ojoje for the idea!**

"Who kills someone in a sports bar? That's what I'd like to know," Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo exclaimed as he practically flung the team's gear out of the back of the truck.

It was a Saturday night. The MCRT had drawn the short straw and had been assigned to their third weekend shift in a row. Fortunately for Tony's social life, Gibbs had protested their assignment to Director Vance, citing a need for a few days of rest if his team was to be able to do their jobs safely and efficiently. Unfortunately, however, Vance had insisted they remain at the on call until 1900, when he would have Balboa's team come to relieve them.

So it would be just their luck for a call to come in at 1845. A Petty Officer had been killed at a sports bar, of all places.

While Tony didn't mind going to a sports bar on a Saturday night, he most definitely minded investigating a homicide at a sports bar on a Saturday night, especially since he'd had to cancel his date. He and his teammates had every right to be frustrated, and Tony had been expressing this frustration the entire car ride there.

"I mean, you live and bleed for your team, I get that, but killing someone after your team loses? That's like a double-whammy. 'Hey, your team just lost the big one…Oh! And you'll be behind bars for the rest of your life. But it was worth it, wasn't it?'"

"People have killed for less," McGee pointed out, picking up one of the bags Tony had thrown.

"What's less than this? I mean, what did this guy get after he shoved a knife in our petty officer's neck? I hate losing as much as the next guy, but he couldn't have waited until tomorrow to enact his revenge? Then he might have been able to plan it all out, you know? Get away clean."

"And we wouldn't have gotten called out on the case," McGee finished, easily getting to the bottom of Tony's true frustrations.

"Exactly!" Tony adamantly nodded.

"Do you have somewhere to be, Tony?" Ziva asked, handing Tony the last bag of gear from the back of the truck as the team made their way to the crime scene.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Zi-vah." Tony gave her a smirk as he ducked under the tape, not offering any more information. He quickly let go of the yellow barrier so that it cut off his teammates before they could pass under. He heard Ziva snort in exasperation.

"Who is she?" Ziva continued, undeterred.

But Tony didn't hear her. He had slowed up near the entrance to the bar at the intense stare one of the witnesses was giving him.

The stranger's eyes were locked onto Tony's every movement, as if studying the senior field agent. It was an inquisitive stare - Tony could practically hear the wheels turning in the man's head as he analyzed the agent before him. It was obvious the man was unaware of his expression, which seemed to be a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and awe.

A few seconds passed, and the man made no move to approach or address Tony; yet his eyes remained fixed on the agent.

Suddenly feeling a tad uneasy, Tony gave a half wave. "Hi there," he joked. He could practically feel Ziva and McGee's stares through the back of his head.

The man didn't say anything; he instead shifted on his feet and his eyes narrowed. But not with malice, more like curiosity…and calculation; it was as if he wasn't sure if he recognized Tony or not. He almost seemed shy – at least, as shy as someone can be while maintaining unflinching focus on a complete stranger.

Thoroughly confused, and more than a little creeped out, Tony gave one more glance at the strange man, flashed a nervous grin, and quickly strode into the bar. "Well that was weird," he surmised, turning to McGee and Ziva.

"Very," Ziva agreed, peering out the door.

"You think he did it?" McGee asked.

"Not unless he left the bar to change his clothes and wash all the blood off, and then returned to the crime scene unnoticed," Tony replied, still not sure what to make of the situation.

"That your theory, DiNozzo?" Gibbs interrupted Tony's consternation, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Tony watched as his eyes flickered around the room, registering that his team had yet to get started. Then his gaze finally settled on Tony – it was piercing, and the order was clear.

"No boss, just a comment. I'll start bagging and tagging," he said quickly. Best to just get started on the crime scene and forget that even happened. The man probably hadn't been trying to stare at him anyway; most likely he was just freaked about witnessing a murder and couldn't process everything around him. He'd probably found someone else to stare at already.

"I'll talk to the witnesses," McGee snapped to attention.

"Photos and measurements, got it," Ziva assured.

Gibbs nodded, exiting the bar yet again to talk to the local LEOs.

Tony and Ziva got to work on the scene, and for a few moments, Tony actually believed that Ziva had forgotten about his plans for the rest of the weekend. That was, until she brought it up again.

"You never told me her name," she began, taking a moment to look at him thoughtfully.

"Why are you so interested?" he inquired.

"Because you will not talk about her."

"We're at a crime scene. I'd rather not associate her with arterial blood patterns," he dismissed.

"It has never stopped you before," she prodded. He couldn't really blame her for pressing – it was a dance they did every time one of them found a possible significant other. He'd been the one poking and prodding into her love life more than once before. They did it because they were partners, because they cared, because they each wanted to make sure that the other did not get hurt.

"Well it's stopping me now." Despite his understanding of the situation, his voice now had a little edge to it. Ziva didn't seem to take notice.

"You know, Tony…" she paused for a moment too long, but Tony had not looked away from the evidence he was collecting, and didn't see what she was looking at.

"What?" he practically hissed. If she was going to give him another lecture on love, could she at least wait until the 3rd date? Or even after they left the crime scene? He still didn't look up.

"I think that…if it does not work out between you two, I have found someone else who might be interested."

"What...who?" Tony's head shot up to look at his partner in confusion. But Ziva wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze.

Creepy Guy. Oh how wonderful.

The man he'd encountered on the way into the bar was back. Tony took a second to study him – after all, this guy had been spying on him for the past 10 minutes.

He looked to be about 30 years old. He was casually dressed, in jeans and a button-down shirt. He had dark brown hair, cut pretty short, but a little mussed up, which was understandable considering he'd been standing there for hours, and had just witnessed a murder. He had a youthful face, dark brown eyes that were still regarding Tony intently, and his brow was furrowed in thought. Every so often he would turn to his left to study the framed photos on the wall, but his gaze never failed to return to the senior field agent after a few moments.

DiNozzo wracked his memory. Nothing. He did not know this guy. But this guy seemed to know him.

"How long has he been staring at me?" he whispered to Ziva.

"I do not know. I just noticed a few minutes ago."

"Where the hell is McGee? Isn't he supposed to be interviewing him?"

"Maybe he has already finished," she suggested.

"So now I just have to finish processing the scene with a captive audience?"

"Surely that does not bother you. You have done it before." Ziva said, clearly referring to his basketball and football days.

"That's different," he muttered through gritted teeth, sneaking quick glances at the man peeking through the doorway. The man's knee seemed to twitch every so often, as if he wanted to move towards them, but each time, something stopped him and he would remain frozen in place. He was clearly debating something in his head.

"Well, you will just have to, how do you say it? Suck it?"

"Suck it _up_, Ziva," Tony corrected. "Hey, maybe you could, you know, lead him off the premises? This _is_ a closed off area."

"He is a _witness_, Tony. They want him here."

"Well I don't!"

"Are you afraid, Tony?" she teased.

"Afraid? No. Weirded out? That's a definite yes. If I've walked into a horror film, I'm blaming you."

"Why is he so interested in you?"

"Well I don't know, Ziva. If I did, I'd be a little less…uncomfortable."

"That is not necessarily true."

"Well, thanks for that. Now I feel much better," Tony said sarcastically, stealing another glance at the man.

"That's good to hear, DiNozzo, because we're taking the case. Cancel your weekend plans." Gibbs strode back into the bar, this time with Ducky, Jimmy, and McGee in tow, heading straight for the body.

"Aww, boss, we had 15 minutes til we were off duty," Tony complained.

"Looks like you'll have to reschedule, Tony," McGee's voice was a little too gleeful for Tony's liking.

Tony slumped and turned away, refocusing on the evidence. In truth, he wasn't all that worried about rescheduling. He'd already been on two dates with Sarah, and he'd felt more comfortable with her than he had with any other woman he'd dated since, well, Jeanne. He knew she would understand, and he'd find a way to make it up to her later.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a well-placed elbow. "Geez! Ziva!"

"Look!" she hissed, gesturing to the entrance to the bar. Their mystery man had finally entered the bar, and he was tapping McGee on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Agent McGee? May I borrow your pen?" he asked.

Across the room, Tony and Ziva exchanged glances. _What the hell was going on?_

"Sure…" McGee acquiesced, handing over the pen in spite of his obvious confusion.

"Thank you." The man nodded, turning his attention once again to Tony.

"Do you think he's gonna stab me with McWriter's pen? That'd be poetic." Tony quipped, standing up as he watched the man approach. McGee followed him slowly, clearly unsure about what was happening.

The man came to a stop a few feet from Tony. He was hesitant, but he seemed to finally find enough courage to speak. "Excuse me…uh, I'm sorry to bug you, and I know this is a crime scene and all, and that, this probably isn't the best time, but, uh…wow, I can't believe I'm doing this, uh, sorry, are you…Anthony DiNozzo?"

"I am…" Tony allowed, shooting glances at both of his teammates, whose hands were surreptitiously on their weapons. But Tony had a feeling they wouldn't need them, he had a feeling—

"_The_ Anthony DiNozzo?" the man clarified, almost in disbelief.

Tony's stomach plummeted as his feeling started to turn into a certainty. He hadn't had one of these encounters in years; this was going to be embarrassing. He had to play this cool. Why did this have to happen with his whole team there?

"Well, I mean, I've always thought of myself as _The_ Anthony DiNozzo, but I'm sure my father would disagree…" Tony joked, his bravado firmly in place.

"I thought I recognized you!" the man exclaimed, and it seemed that the confirmation that the man in front of him was indeed _The_ Anthony DiNozzo, was enough to offset his shyness. "I'm…one of your biggest fans! Followed your whole career. God, it's been years – wasn't sure it was you or not! That shot, to win the '91 National Championship? Still gives me the chills! Couldn't even believe you made that steal, let alone got off the shot! God, I was your biggest fan back then!"

His eyes were wide, and held a sparkle to them, like a kid meeting his hero. He didn't seem to notice he was babbling on like a teenage girl until he paused, realizing he'd said all of that out loud. He didn't seem to care. He extended his hand, "Charlie Watson."

Tony was both appalled and astonished. He almost forgot to say anything, but a subtle kick from Ziva had him reaching out to shake the man's hand. "Good to meet you," he greeted, a little uncertainly. It wasn't that he minded the fan's excitement, it was just that he wished they were alone. Though McGee and Ziva had been surprisingly supportive of him after finding out about his basketball career, he still wasn't exactly comfortable with the subject.

Charlie did not seem to notice his hesitation as he continued. "It's an honor, really. You're a legend. I honestly couldn't believe it was you! But I'd recognize you anywhere – you were my childhood hero!"

"Um, wow. I uh, don't know what to say," Tony was uncharacteristically bashful. "Thank you."

"No, thank you! I can't tell you how much you inspired me. Started playing ball after watching you play. Never could get off a jumper as good as you, but it was enough to play Division 3 ball. And I've been coaching ever since college. I make all my players watch old tapes of you."

"You do?" Tony shook his head. Behind Charlie, he could see McGee grinning; but it was the genuine smile of a person who was truly proud of their friend, only slightly amused at how uncomfortable Tony was in the spotlight. Tony found himself a little more at ease.

"Right before every game…gets 'em pumped up, not to mention, gives 'em an example of how the game of basketball _should_ be played. Say! How's your knee? Killed me to see you go out like that. But you look like you're moving around just fine!"

"Oh, um, yeah," Tony glanced down at his knee. "Workin' like a charm, now."

"Good, good. I'm glad. That TV special they did, the ESPN one? It said you were working as a federal agent, helping people, like you always wanted to. Damn good thing you're doing here. You see, that's why I tell my kids about you – you played great on the court, but you never forgot about what really matters. I try to teach 'em real life lessons, you know? Wait til I tell 'em I met you!"

Tony smiled slightly, unaccustomed to such praise. "Thanks, um, tell them I say hello."

"Do you-ah-think you could sign something for me?" Charlie asked, rummaging through his wallet and handing Tony the pen that he'd procured from McGee.

Tony glanced around, expecting to see Gibbs ready to explode – this _was_ a crime scene after all. Instead, he saw his boss carefully placing something into an evidence bag. As if he sensed Tony's confusion, Gibbs looked up and locked gazes with his second. His boss nodded, and Tony decided that he was most definitely in some sort of alternate reality film because, was that a twinkle in his eye?

Ziva and McGee had likewise turned back to their work, but both had been stealing glances up at their partner, grinning as they watched him struggle to comprehend the well-deserved recognition.

He turned back to Charlie, who was now unfolding a photograph. "Sure thing," he managed, completely thrown for a loop. He hadn't signed an autograph in 2 decades.

He glanced at the photograph that was being gingerly placed into his hands. "Is that…?"

Charlie chuckled. "Yep. That's me and you, about 20 years ago. I won a contest to meet my favorite NCAA player. Best memory of my childhood."

Tony was speechless. He stared at the picture. There he was, in his basketball uniform, a happy and carefree smile lit up his face. He had his arm slung around a beaming kid who looked to be about 10 years old. The kid was wearing his #7 jersey and reverently holding an autographed basketball.

"I…remember this," he finally breathed, thumb brushing over the photograph.

"You were so nice to me. Took me on the court during warm-ups and let me try a passing drill with you. They said I could only talk to you for a few minutes, but you let me stay with you for a whole hour before the game. I thought you were the coolest guy in the world."

Tony was still lost in the memory, but he murmured in response, "Seemed stupid to just dump you in for a photo-op and pull you out. I had a lot of fun that night…"

"You did?" Charlie was genuinely amazed. _After all these years, Anthony DiNozzo remembered him? And the basketball star had enjoyed meeting him as much as he himself had?_

Tony snapped out of it. "I did. You were a pretty good basketball player," he smiled.

"Learned from the best."

Tony laughed and shook his head. "Wow this brings back memories."

"You miss it?" Charlie inquired.

Tony considered for a moment. "Yeah, yeah I do."

"I'm not surprised. But you seem like you're doing pretty well for yourself."

"I am…I'm doing what I was meant to do." Tony looked back down at the photo. His hand seemed to move automatically as it retraced the familiar patterns that he'd used for his autograph 20 years ago.

He handed the picture back to Charlie. "There you go," his voice had a depth to it that he could not explain.

"Thanks." Charlie too, seemed to be caught up in the web of emotion. "You think, I could get one last picture?"

"Of course," Tony nodded, looking around for someone help them out.

"I've got it," McGee interrupted, reaching out to take Charlie's phone. Tony almost jumped. He'd forgotten about his teammates. They'd backed off during the conversation, but he knew that they'd both been a short distance away in order to catch all of the details.

"Maybe we should take this outside," Tony suggested. "The dead body in the background might cramp our style."

"Oh, right," Charlie agreed. "Wow, is it bad I forgot about all of that for a moment? This is probably really inappropriate."

"I'd just change the circumstances of our meeting when you re-tell this story," Tony laughed.

"I'll do that!" Charlie assured.

Tony hadn't posed for a picture with a fan in what seemed like forever, and now, standing at a crime scene with his arm slung around a complete stranger, his Probie taking their photo, he felt a little awkward. _What would McGee say about random strangers wanting to get their picture taken with him?_ But McGee just quickly snapped the picture, and McGee handed the phone back to Charlie and headed into the bar, giving Tony a little privacy to say goodbye.

"Well, uh, the cops actually told me to go about a half hour ago," Charlie admitted, turning back towards Tony.

"I'm glad you stuck around…though I'll admit, the staring got a little creepy there for a while."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I just thought I was imagining things, you know? Seeing what I wanted to see. And then I saw the picture of you on the wall, and compared it to you working on the crime scene, and I was sure it was you. But then I had to figure out the best way to approach your childhood sports hero when he's squatting over a pool of blood and you're a witness to the murder he's trying to solve…it was kind of complicated."

Tony laughed. "I'll bet…wait a second, picture on the wall?"

"Yeah, didn't you see it? It's right inside the door – an autographed picture of you hoisting the National Championship trophy. It's pretty sweet. You should check it out before you leave."

Tony looked at him quizzically. "I will," he finally replied. "Well, uh, it was good meeting you."

"You too! I'll be telling this story for ages! Well, I'll leave out the dead body part. You think you'll catch the guy?"

"If I know my team, we already have an ID on him. We'll catch him," Tony said confidently.

"Good. I already told your Agent McGee, but that guy was crazy!"

"They usually are."

"Well, um, thank you so much for being so…down-to-earth. I know approaching you during a crime scene is probably not the most…tactful way of doing things, but I just had to meet you. It's nice to know you're doing well, and that I…picked the right guy to admire growing up. You're still the man I always believed you were."

Tony cleared his throat. "Thank you," he finally managed to say sincerely. "I'm, uh, glad that I didn't disappoint you…or the kids you coach."

"They're going to be so excited when I tell them I got to meet you. Jealous, too," he chuckled.

"Well, tell them to keep working hard. And good luck this season; I'll be rooting for them."

"If you're ever free, give me a call," Charlie handed Tony his card. "We'd love to have you at a practice or a game."

Tony took the offered card. "I just might," he said.

"They'd really appreciate that. But I…understand, if you can't."

Tony paused for a moment. Could he do this? Was he ready to revisit basketball again? Could he ever get used to be identified as a star athlete again? Did he even want to?

But then he slowed down his racing thoughts. Why couldn't he try it out? What was stopping him? Where was the fearless Anthony DiNozzo that he had always believed himself to be? He didn't back down. 'Quit' wasn't in him. Maybe this was his chance to reconnect, to once again find some meaning in the sport he had always loved.

He swallowed down his fears and spoke up. "The thing is, Charlie, 'can't' isn't a word in an athlete's vocabulary – you tell your kids that, and I'll give you a call."

"You're the real deal, DiNozzo," Charlie said, with true admiration in his voice. "Thank you for everything – you have a good day."

"Same to you. I'll, see ya around," Tony said, turning back towards the bar, deep in thought. He couldn't even begin to process what had just happened, there were too many emotions flooding through his brain.

Confusion, embarrassment, nostalgia, loss, pride, excitement, anxiety – they were all jockeying for position inside his admittedly scrambled brain.

At this point, he wasn't sure which emotion was going to win out, but he knew he'd have to pull himself together to face his friends; maybe they would provide the clarity that he found himself unable to grasp.

**I hope you enjoyed! I've had this part done for a while, but have been waiting to post until I finished the other parts. I confess, I haven't finished part 3 yet, but I'm hoping to do so in the last 2 days before I return to school. The next installment will be more of a character study of this encounter, told from the perspectives of Ziva, McGee, and Gibbs - it doesn't have much action but does provide insight into each character's perceptions of DiNozzo's athletic stardom. Thanks for reading and please leave a review - I love hearing from you all!**

**Peas,**

**Stephanie**


	8. Tag 1 Part B

**Author's Note: **_Hello again everyone! I want to apologize for the wait - you would not believe the week I've had (I know I still can't). Unfortunately, that put writing part 3 on the back burner for a while, so I was afraid to post part 2 until I'd gotten a little further into part 3. _

_This part does not have a lot of dialogue, but it has a lot of character exploration centered around Tony - basically examining Ziva, McGee, and Gibbs' thoughts about Tony and the situation he found himself in at the crime scene. It's a bit slower, but I always find it interesting to explore character reactions, and so I wanted to focus on Tony-centered reactions of other characters (something the actors do so well with their facial expressions, but nonetheless sometimes need to be explained)._

_Anyways, I hope you enjoy. This is not beta-ed, so please forgive any errors, I did try to find them all. I also want to thank everyone who left a review or favorited/alerted. You all rock! I'm sorry if I didn't get to respond to all reviews - I promise I will, I just had a crazy past few days. Thanks and enjoy!_

**Tag 1 Part B**

When Ziva had first seen the strange man approaching her partner, she had almost let her Mossad training and instincts get the better of her. It was only after a quick sweep of the man's body, which revealed no tell-tale bulge of a weapon, that she decided against whipping out her own gun and training it in between the man's eyes. Instead, she settled for protectively grasping her still-holstered sidearm, ready to react on a moment's notice if the man made a wrong move on Tony.

She didn't appreciate Tony's joke about being stabbed with a pen; she knew all too well the kind of damage a trained operative could do with a seemingly harmless object. She had kept her hand firmly over her weapon, noticing that McGee was doing the same. Even if this man seemed to mean no harm, the situation was odd enough to warrant a certain measure of caution.

Even when the man nervously stammered out a jumbled greeting and managed a sort of stuttered apology, she remained alert, though she noted that McGee seemed to relax a little. She decided to rely on Tony's body language to clue her into the situation. Undoubtedly, Gibbs would be right behind her if things turned out badly.

She watched as her partner responded to the man, but she could not quite read what she saw. Tony had tensed up – he was clearly uncomfortable – but she noticed that he had not made one move to put himself in a better defensive position or to make his weapon more accessible. It seemed that he did not see the man as an immediate threat, at least not a physical one.

The situation became even more confusing when the man burst out, "_The_ Anthony DiNozzo?"

So they had a past. How many times was she going to find out about random people from Tony's past without Tony volunteering the information? Were they going to have to force another secret out of him?

She watched as Tony's shoulders slumped slightly. She wished she could see his face, to see if there was any recognition in his eyes. She was missing something, clearly. But of course, instead of straight answers, Tony cracked a joke. _Typical Tony._ Before she could step in and shake Tony's hesitation out of him, the man cleared everything up for her.

Her eyes widened in amusement and her fingers slipped away from her SIG as the man finally burst out what he'd undoubtedly been waiting to say since they'd arrived at the scene. She smirked as she heard him recount the very plays that they'd watched in Abby's living room just months earlier. They really had been impressive moments, even if Tony refused to acknowledge that.

Now more than ever, she wished she could see Tony's face. As much as she knew how uncomfortable Tony had to feel, being confronted by someone who insisted on bringing up his basketball success, she was almost glad that Tony was being forced into getting some appreciation. She knew he would never accept it from his teammates, but maybe the praise of an outsider who clearly admired Tony would be enough to smack some sense into him.

She had to hold back a chuckle as she listened to the conversation. Here was a grown man who had spent the last half hour just trying to pluck up the courage to even approach her partner, and now that he was able to talk to him, was practically giddy. To think that it meant so much to someone to just be in the presence of Tony DiNozzo, well, she wasn't sure if she found it disconcerting or endearing.

Nevertheless, it was quite an interesting development.

She had never understood the pedestal on which Americans seemed to place celebrities. They were ordinary people, were they not? She had worked with Tony DiNozzo for years, and while he was certainly special to her, she had not been able to completely grasp why he was special to so many people, just because he could put a ball in a hoop from far away.

That was not to say that she hadn't recognized his talent when she'd viewed the TV special. He certainly had been good. And she understood why people cheered so loud for him after he'd won the championship – they were understandably emotional after such a big win, and would naturally flock to the person who had brought them such joy. But she hadn't realized or understood exactly why Tony had become such a hero. He was good at basketball, yes, but after the season, it was finished; the fans had no reason to almost faint in his presence. He was still just a man – they did not even know the real Tony DiNozzo.

But as she heard Charlie's mini-speech, listened to him break down the reasons that he admired Tony, it became clear to her. Tony was a representation of what many young children dream of becoming. He was a manifestation of what is possible; he inspired people to take a chance, gave them hope that their dreams might come true. While Ziva did not always understand sports, she did understand the importance of hope. She suddenly felt a swell of pride for her partner deep in her chest.

He not only provided them with a hero to look up to, but he had taken his role seriously. Despite all of the praise, the accolades, the fame, he had still remained Tony DiNozzo. A good man. A man that cared about others and knew what really mattered in life. A man that wanted to help people, make others smile, but didn't want anyone, save a select few people, to know how deeply he cared. He had led by example, sticking to what he knew was right, no matter what the situation, and Ziva could finally see why he had been such a role model to so many people.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS-NCIS – NCIS

Unlike his partner, Agent Timothy McGee was no stranger to the concept of celebrity role models. It was a natural inclination to gravitate towards those who were capable of the seemingly superhuman – of the ones that took you from your everyday world of ordinary into the realm of the extraordinary.

Children, especially, became enthralled by these heroes. There was just something magical about a sports star that seemingly never failed – week in and week out he proved worthy of your loyalty and he never let you down.

For young Timothy McGee, the effect had been even stronger. For although his grandmother had provided a semblance of support and structure in his life, there had always been something missing, something the Admiral could have filled, but did not. So he too had looked outside of his family, into a world of comics where the heroes always came out on top, and where disappointments were always fleeting, for they were redeemed in the end.

It was those stories that became more important than any support he could have received from his hard-to-please father. They were something solid and consistent in his life. More importantly, he could not touch them, could not examine them any further and find out that maybe they weren't as good as he'd once thought them to be. No, there were no disappointments to be found beneath the surface, and that was exactly what he needed.

So unlike Ziva, McGee really did understand Tony's popularity among not only Buckeye Nation, but the entire country. He could see clearly the appeal of the young athlete who treated everyone like his brother and never let anyone down with his play on the court. Anthony DiNozzo, the athlete, played like no one ever before; he did things that children and adults could only dream of – and he did them time and time again, so that every young Buckeye fan could watch their team, knowing they would come out on top.

Had McGee been interested in sports, he was pretty sure he would have been drawn to DiNozzo, just as everyone else had been.

That was the one thing that he found difficult to grasp. He and Tony had grown closer over the years, but still, this was Tony…_Tony._ And he was likening him to a superhero. What had happened to his world?

But, out of everyone he knew, he really couldn't imagine anyone else who fit the bill better than Tony. Tony, who always found a way to make things happen when no one else could. Tony, whose self-deprecating sense of humor and engaging personality found a way to draw everyone in. And Tony, who never let anything bring him down, even when everything was stacked against him. Yes, Tony had everything that people looked for in a hero.

But the question was, did Tony think so?

McGee thought back to the ESPN special that had, just 6 months ago, opened his eyes to a new Tony DiNozzo. Tony had not only excelled as an athlete, lifting his team to a NCAA championship almost single-handedly, but also as a celebrity. He had felt the weight of a nation on his shoulders, and it hadn't affected him. At least, that's what it looked like on the outside.

But Tim knew his friend. He knew that Tony had felt the pressure. Sure, he had probably basked in the glow of an entire city wearing his name on their backs, but he had also understood exactly what was expected of him, exactly what was at stake.

McGee almost shuddered at the realization that Tony knew exactly what would happen if he failed. For as swiftly as a hero can be lifted up, he can come crashing down at twice the speed. One moment of hesitation, one second too late on a buzzer beater, one trip, one fall, one mistake, and it would have ended. Tony knew it all, and somehow he'd kept his composure.

McGee knew he couldn't have done half of it if he'd tried.

But Tony had done it all. He had made it to the top of the world – and he'd carried all of Buckeye Nation with him.

Had the story ended there, McGee never would have known Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. And a selfish part of him was glad it hadn't ended there – because when his fingers weren't glued to his keyboard, he was damn grateful to have Tony on his six.

Watching Tony's knee snap had affected him more than he'd let on. He'd become less squeamish at crime scenes over the years, but this was his partner, not some nameless victim. It was his partner who had been writhing on the ground in pain, his friend whose face had been broadcast across the nation at the very moment he realized his dreams had been crushed.

Fortunately, knowledge had granted Tim solace. The Tony on that field had no idea what the future would hold, and yet he still tried one last time to lift his Buckeye Nation to their feet. Tim knew no one else that would have had that strength; but looking back, Tim found comfort in knowing that Tony would find a new purpose – in saving lives.

But what Tim had never understood was Tony's secrecy – his steadfast refusal to allow others to acknowledge his greatness. He knew it was painful to relive those moments, knowing that he could never reach that point again, but he still would have thought Tony would appreciate a little bit of recognition after all these years. Nevertheless, he had respected Tony's wishes, and after their talk in the bullpen the Monday after the ESPN special was aired, they had never talked about it again.

Until today, because just 3 feet in front of him stood Tony's apparent number one fan.

He'd noticed the man's preoccupation with Tony in the past hour – it was hard not to – but hadn't realized the reason for his interest until now.

The man, a Charlie Watson according to his statement, was in the middle of professing his longstanding adoration for Tony DiNozzo. Meanwhile, Tony looked like a trapped animal, coiled tight and yet resigned to his fate. His usually well-placed mask was unable to hide his surprise…and his horror, as this man listed out his accolades. McGee could practically feel the thoughts whirling around Tony's head – probably first and foremost was his fear of what Gibbs would do to both of them when he saw what was going on.

But McGee couldn't help himself from grinning as he watched his friend being force fed the well-deserved praise. If he wouldn't accept it from his friends, and least he still had a few fans out there to remind him. Sure, Tony was uncomfortable, but somehow they had to get it through his thick skull that he could be proud of what he used to be while still being proud of what he'd become. And this man seemed to be doing just that.

He saw his partner's eyes dart towards him and he didn't bother to hide his grin. He knew Tony could read him and that he'd see his smile as a show of genuine support, not of malicious enjoyment of his dilemma. His partner did seem to relax a little, and the drop in tension reassured McGee. Tony was handling it – the best thing he could do now was back away and _pretend_ not to listen.

He dropped back down to the ground to photograph a peculiar blood pattern, still within listening distance. He hoped it might put the Senior Field Agent at ease if his teammates weren't breathing down his neck while he spoke with the fan. It was awkward enough for Tony to have been approached at a crime scene, so he did his best to make it appear as though he'd tuned out. Across the way, he saw Ziva do the same.

A quick glance towards his boss confirmed that Gibbs knew exactly what was going on, but he made no move to head slap his second back to work. Instead, he silently picked up where Tony had left off bagging evidence, and McGee was pretty sure he detected a small smile directed at his protégé.

As McGee worked, he smiled at the conversation going on behind him. His head shot up as he heard the man ask for an autograph, in time to catch Tony's panicked glance in the direction of his boss, no doubt worried about having a job after all of this. To Tim's relief, Gibbs chose this moment to give Tony one of his rare nods of encouragement; McGee had received his share of them over the years, but it seemed with Tony, Gibbs preferred the head slap over more conventional methods of reassurance. While it usually worked with Tony, McGee was pretty sure it would not be appreciated in this instance. Fortunately, Gibbs also seemed to be well aware of this.

McGee was as shocked as Tony to hear that the two had actually met before – and that the picture Charlie had brought for Tony to autograph was from the first time they had met, years ago. He was tempted to find an excuse to peer over Tony's shoulder at the picture, but figured his friend wouldn't appreciate the intrusion. But he couldn't resist offering to help when he heard Charlie request a picture.

Determined not to make the situation any more uncomfortable for Tony, he made no comment when Tony jumped back at his offer, just gave him a look that he hoped was reassuring as they walked outside the bar.

As he focused the lens around Tony and his admirer, he couldn't help but wonder if he was in _The_ _Twilight Zone._ Here he was, taking a picture of his partner and some random stranger, because said random stranger was so awestruck by Tony that he needed a photograph to capture the moment. And apparently, this was old news for Tony, who had undoubtedly taken thousands of such pictures in his playing days.

To be fair, Tony himself looked to be adjusting to the attention a little slowly as well, as if he was still convinced that this was some sort of surreal flashback. But as always, he was still able to look as composed as ever. In fact, if Tim hadn't known him for 8 years, he never would have sensed the unease that Tony was trying hard to conceal.

The photo-op was soon over, and McGee retreated back inside, lingering as close to the door as possible to pick up snippets of their conversation. Ziva caught his eye and they exchanged knowing glances. Tony was finally opening up to someone – it was a strong step towards finally opening up to his team as well.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs watched as the two youngest members of his team exchanged a look. Even from far away, he could read their expressions – a mixture of both concern and satisfaction that made him proud of his team.

He knew how much Tim and Ziva cared for their partner. And he knew how much Tony cared for them. The bickering and petty pranks that he allowed to an extent in the bullpen may have fooled some, but to those who truly knew his team, it was plain as day that they were a close-knit group – a family.

Today, he had seen their concern from the moment they realized what was going on with the witness. While they had started off guarded, hands near their weapons in case the man posed a physical threat to their partner, they had ended up slightly backed off – in an endeavor to make their partner comfortable – yet they still remained within hearing distance to monitor any emotional harm that might come to him.

To Gibbs' amusement, they'd even been prepared to protect Tony from _him_ if he so much as dared to head slap his second when he was this vulnerable. He smirked. Yeah, they had Tony's six all right.

But Gibbs hadn't missed their satisfaction either. He could also see that despite their discomfort, they were happy to see the mysterious topic brought back up – not only because they wanted their questions answered, but also because they were glad to see Tony finally getting some well-deserved recognition.

As far as Gibbs was concerned, there were no more questions that Tony needed to answer. His brief talk with Tony in the basement combined with his understanding of the man, ensured that he had a much clearer picture than did McGee and Ziva, who had just recently been clued into Tony's athletic successes.

He understood why Tony's athletic career was so intriguing to the rest of his team. It was something that anyone would have thought Tony would be bragging about, not doing his best to sweep under the rug. After all, Tony's athletic ability had been the stuff of legends – he had been so extraordinarily good that it seemed his life was made for the silver screen. That was, until his knee was destroyed on live television. But even then, it would have been okay, or even natural, for Tony to want to hang onto that, to every-so-often remind people of his glory days, especially if his spirits were in need of a lift.

But Tony not only shied away from the spotlight, he concealed himself from it, and hid everything about his playing days from all of the important people in his new life. Sure, a few of them found out about it, but they quickly found that it was a taboo topic, one that was dead and buried and would stay that way.

Gibbs knew about Tony's accomplishments from the beginning, having done a bit of preliminary research on a Detective Anthony DiNozzo. He thought he'd heard the name before, and, not sure of the context, wanted to make sure they weren't going to have any problems after he offered him a job.

When he found the answer, he had been more shocked than he wanted to admit, but restrained from mentioning anything to the intriguing detective. He'd lived most of his life keeping his mouth shut and ears open, and he wasn't about to start yammering now, especially with some loudmouth detective.

Said loudmouth detective, and now agent, had been surprisingly mute on the subject of his collegiate sports career. There had been a few mentions of games or plays or traditions, but never to an extent where anyone would think that there was anything more to Anthony DiNozzo – and Gibbs soon came to realize, that was exactly how Tony liked it.

As he came to understand Tony DiNozzo the man, he also came to understand Tony DiNozzo, the ex-star athlete. He started to see the flicker of pain in his agent's eyes when he slipped and made a comment about his athletic career. He saw him struggle with the idea of Abby knowing his deeply-held secret, but gradually accept it, as Abby worked through the boundaries he'd put up around his emotions. He understood Tony's desire to keep it all in the past, his struggle to ensure that he was now defined as Very Special Agent DiNozzo, the federal agent, not Anthony DiNozzo, the star point guard whose dreams had been ripped from under him.

He knew that Tony'd experienced enough pity, enough regret, enough awkward awe-struck fan encounters followed by even more awkward stuttered apologies and condolences.

But most of all, he knew why.

Why Tony really couldn't bring himself to look back. Because it would mean acknowledging his own regret, his own devastation at losing out on his basketball dreams – which brought on the one thing that unsettled Tony the most. Who was he to sit there and wish he could do it over again when it would mean that he never would have become a cop, and never would have saved the people he had saved?

When Gibbs had realized that – during a long night of boat building, bourbon, and reflection – he'd just about stormed over to Tony's apartment and head slapped some sense into him. It was just like his senior agent to find a way to blame himself for a hypothetical situation. But that was what made Tony DiNozzo the man he was – he was willing to sacrifice anything to help someone, and he considered losing his basketball dream a fair trade off for the lives he'd saved.

One year, Tony showed up in his basement on the night of the Final Four games. Gibbs knew it wasn't a coincidence – he'd walked into Abby's lab earlier that day and found her and Palmer talking about their first annual Final Four get-together, and knew right away that he'd probably have a visitor as well. There was no way that Tony was unaware that two of his best friends were getting together to watch Ohio State in the Final Four – in fact, he'd probably already had to turn down numerous invitations from Abby.

Sure enough, it _had_ been the start of a tradition. Every year, Tony would emerge at the top of his basement steps, wearing a sheepish smile, as if slightly embarrassed that he needed Gibbs' support. Every year, Gibbs would return a knowing half-smile and motion for Tony to join him. There was an unspoken agreement that basketball was not to be discussed, but anything else was fair game. Gibbs would never tell Tony, but those were some of his favorite nights with his second, and although Tony never told him, he was sure the feeling was mutual.

But this year had been different – this year, Tony had been forced to let the rest of his team in. And while Tony had initially been on edge, their short conversation had seemed to calm him considerably. The rest of the night passed normally with no mention of basketball, and seemingly no nerves about what his teammates were up to at Abby's house.

Yet still, Tony had gone into the office a day later prepared to face an unpleasant interrogation from his teammates – and instead was shocked by their understanding of his wishes…and their steadfast support of who he had been and who he had become.

Of course, Gibbs hadn't been far off – silently listening from his spot behind the staircase, ready to swoop in if Ziva and McGee pushed too hard.

But they hadn't, and after that day, everyone kept a respectful distance from the topic of basketball. It was an unspoken agreement that Tony would be the one to bring it up again – and only when he was ready.

That was, until today, when Charlie Watson unexpectedly reminded everyone of DiNozzo's past by deciding a crime scene was the right place to reconnect with his childhood hero.

Which couldn't have mortified his senior agent more.

Right away, Gibbs knew the absolute worst thing to do in this situation was to harass DiNozzo about it. Not in front of his teammates, and definitely not in front of a fan – while he had always accepted a small degree of good-natured ribbing on his team, he never wanted his agents humiliated. So slapping Tony and sending him off to the other end of the crime scene with a stern admonishment was out of the question.

As was dragging the man away from Tony. Because as inappropriate as this situation was, it was necessary. Tony needed to understand that he should be damn proud of his accomplishments, and if Gibbs couldn't get through to him, maybe this guy could. He was surely rattling him enough.

Gibbs squatted down and picked up where Tony left off, smirking when he caught Ziva and McGee's furtive glances in his direction – looking to see if he was going to shoot Tony then and there. He ignored them and focused on his agent, who was also anxiously looking around. When Tony finally found him, briefly catching his eye, Gibbs nodded, knowing his senior agent would take that as permission to relax a little.

He tried to listen in, only feeling slightly guilty for invading DiNozzo's privacy – they _were _still at his crime scene after all, and Tony no doubt knew his teammates were paying attention anyway.

Apparently Watson was teaching his young basketball team how to play the "DiNozzo Way" and he chuckled to himself at the thought of teaching America's youth to act like little DiNozzos. Tony would love that…if he ever stopped being stubborn long enough to see that he deserved it.

He could already see his second struggling to find the right responses to such a compliment. Oh yeah, this was definitely the head slap that DiNozzo had needed all along.

When Watson pulled out the picture of him and DiNozzo from all those years ago, Gibbs shook his head as he resisted looking back up at the pair. Apparently there already was a little DiNozzo, and here he was, all grown up and thanking his hero - the person who'd helped him to become the man he was today. Tony again seemed to struggle with the memory, but Watson wasn't letting up and Tony actually seemed to accept his role for the moment.

"_I'm doing what I was meant to do."_

It was upon hearing Tony utter those words that Gibbs allowed any remaining tension in his muscles to dissipate.

_Atta boy, DiNozzo. _He silently commended as he watched his protégé walk out of the bar with Watson, McGee at their heels.

It was another step forward.

Just six months ago, Tony had avoided and even denied any connection to the sport of basketball. His team had taken the first step to helping him come to terms with his past athletic career and the horrific injury that changed his life forever.

Now, on a case that had started as an inconvenience, a complete stranger had just helped Tony to see not only how much his legacy still means to young athletes everywhere, but also how his example is being used to teach young kids what it means to be a good person.

It was about damn time.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading. Next chapter will be up as soon as I finish it (hopefully over the long weekend). It will feature a few conversations to help Tony take another step in accepting his past. Please leave a review if you can! - they really help me to write faster, I promise!_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


	9. Tag 1 Part C

**Author's Note: **_I am SO sorry about how late this post is. This is why I don't usually post until I am completely finished, because I hate to keep my readers waiting! But of course, I jumped the gun and posted the first 2 parts without the 3rd being done, thinking I could finish it, and then BAM, life happened. I truly am sorry, and trust me, I was thinking about this story a lot, just didn't have any time to sit down and write. So today, my first day of spring break, I sat down for 6 hours and wrote the rest of the chapter._

_It is WAY longer than I was expecting, but I just wanted to post it all instead of leaving you all hanging again. I think at the end, you will find Tony is somewhat more comfortable with his past as a star athlete and it's implications on his life now. I did have a lot of fun writing it, and tried to stay in character to the best of my ability. Hopefully it worked! Thank you so so so much for all of your support, and read the A/N at the bottom for what's coming next :)_

* * *

**Tag 1 Part C**

McGee watched from inside the bar as Tony and Charlie said their goodbyes. He looked behind him to see Gibbs and Ziva beginning to back up their supplies as they finished up with the scene.

Fingerprints from the scene had already ID-ed their killer as Frank Patton and it was only a matter of time before they got a hit on the BOLO that Gibbs had issued. At this point, they would head back to the Navy Yard, make sure the evidence was in order for an errorless trial, and begin their search for Patton. With any luck, it would be an easy collar and they would soon be home free.

Of course, the drive back to the Navy Yard would be interesting – because there was no way they were just going to pretend that Tony hadn't just been pulled away from a crime scene by his biggest fan and forced to re-assume his long-forsaken role of basketball superstar.

Yup, that conversation was pretty much unavoidable after the night they'd had – and McGee had a feeling Tony would be less than receptive.

Which was just what he needed to end this long week: a cornered and surly DiNozzo.

With a resigned sigh, he made to turn back to help his teammates pack up, but stopped dead as his eyes focused on one of the many framed photographs lining the bar wall.

_No…No way._ He thought, his eyes becoming wider as he unconsciously stepped toward the picture.

There, just 4 feet in front of him, hung a large framed photograph of none other than Anthony DiNozzo. Twenty-one year old Tony was being jostled by jubilant teammates as he hoisted the National Championship trophy over his head, a familiar 100-watt grin lit up his youthful face. Slightly off-center, McGee spotted Tony's familiar messy scrawl: "_Go Bucks! National Champs!" _and underneath it, the graceful curves of Tony's well-practiced autograph.

"It is a nice picture, is it not?"

McGee jumped at Ziva's smooth voice in his ear.

Recovering quickly, he replied, "Yeah, yeah it is."

"I noticed it as we entered. I did not think Tony would appreciate it, so I attempted to distract him." Ziva explained, and suddenly her interrogation about Tony's personal life made a little more sense.

"A little late for that," McGee commented wryly.

"Well, I did not intend for that man to approach Tony. If I had, I would have spent more time observing him instead."

McGee nodded, looking back out towards his partner. Watson had left, but Tony had not yet moved from his spot to come back into the bar. He looked to be deep in thought.

"You know, maybe it was a good thing – Tony talking to a fan," McGee contemplated.

"It is possible," Ziva replied, also looking out the window at her partner.

McGee raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to finish the thought.

"Or…" she continued, "it is possible that this will make him shut down even further."

McGee nodded, hearing the concern that laced her voice.

"You think we should talk to him?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I think we must…It is what he would do for us."

"He's not gonna like it," McGee warned.

"Yes, well, sometimes we must hear things, even if we do not wish to talk about them. Tough luck."

McGee winced. "Wrong idiom – tough love."

Ziva looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before replying slowly. "Yes, love. That is what I meant."

McGee raised his eyebrows at her, but she ignored his look, gathering her gear and walking towards the exit.

This would be an interesting conversation, indeed.

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

Tony was just re-entering the bar as Ziva and McGee decided to leave. Tony awkwardly made eye contact with his teammates, giving them an embarrassed nod before moving past them, muttering "give me a sec" under his breath.

"Tony." Ziva's soft call stopped him momentarily. "We are finished in here – we are returning to the Navy Yard."

Tony nodded jerkily. "Okay. Be there in a sec. I'm sure you probies can handle loading the truck without me." The forced lightness of his tone indicated his true thoughts: _Please, leave it at that. Don't follow me back in._

To his surprise, his teammates seemed to understand his silent plea, maybe reading the steely conviction in his eyes. They gave him a long look, before McGee finally said, "Okay, I'll start the truck," reaching his hand out to Ziva to get the keys.

Tony saw right away his probie's attempt to spare them both from Ziva's driving. Except today, he wanted the drive over with as fast as possible, which was why he found himself saying, "C'mon probie, let the probette drive – she needs the practice more than you do."

The look of surprise on McGee's face was one for the ages – he clearly thought Tony had lost his mind. Next to him, Ziva smirked, and Tony had the feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking. He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

With one last knowing glance, Ziva turned on her heel and grabbed a stumbling McGee. "Come, McGee – I have gotten quite used to driving in America," she assured.

Tony smirked as he turned around. Ziva couldn't be more wrong about her improved driving skills, but anything was better than McGrandma's driving, which had the possibility of making their 20 minute drive an hour long excursion. He could last 20 minutes, couldn't he?

He stepped into the bar and scanned the walls – it only took him a few seconds to find the picture he was looking for.

Of all the sports bars in the Metro area, they had to be called out to the one that had decided to use a 20 year old picture of him as a wall decoration. They had crappy taste.

He allowed himself to look at the photograph for a moment and the memories started to flow through him. God, that had been one of the happiest moments of his life. He remembered the disbelief he'd experienced as he watched that final shot fall through, and then the immediate and overwhelming thrill he'd felt as it hit him – they were National Champions.

He remembered his teammates rushing towards him. Remembered being jostled by the mob of ecstatic fans, and then hoisted up on their shoulders as he tried to process what was happening. He remembered feeling numb, as the excitement surrounding him became a blur – reporters shoving everyone aside to get a quote from him, friends and strangers slapping him on the back, congratulating him, camera flashes blinding him, his coach hugging him, tears trickling down his jubilant face, and then…the trophy ceremony. He and his team holding the award high above them, thanking the fans, reveling in the moment they'd been working towards their whole lives.

He must have stood there for almost a minute, lost in his memories. Memories that he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy for more than a decade.

He caught himself reaching out, as if he needed to touch the picture to ensure that it had really happened. He snapped his arm back to his side and took a slow step backward, blinking a few times to clear himself of the stupor he'd fallen into. He took another step back, and then another as he made his way away from the memories and back to the bar exit, not really paying attention to his surroundings.

"On your six, DiNozzo," a familiar voice warned, breaking through his momentary fugue.

He whirled around. Gibbs was straightening up from where he'd been packing up the remaining equipment. He'd almost tripped right over him.

"Sorry boss, wasn't looking!" Tony quickly apologized as Gibbs drew himself to full height.

Intense blue eyes regarded him carefully, as if searching for some crack in his usually impenetrable mask.

"On your six, DiNozzo," Gibbs repeated.

That simple assurance quelled any hope that Gibbs had somehow failed to see what Tony had been staring at.

"Well, technically boss, you're now at my twelve," Tony quipped. It was immediately clear that he had already recognized the double meaning in Gibbs' initial warning – and that he was unprepared for dealing with a serious conversation right now.

Gibbs head slapped him. "On. Your. Six."

"Got it boss."

"Good," Gibbs smirked as he turned away.

Tony watched his retreating form for a moment before he smiled himself and followed him out. _Boss better watch it, _he thought_. If there'd been any witnesses, they might think he actually cared._

NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS – NCIS

"So," Ziva began as she pulled the truck onto the main road, only accelerating to 15 mph past the posted speed limit – an improvement from 'The old Ziva' but still not enough to make Tony or McGee feel safe – "Charlie Watson." She said his name with an expectant smile on her lips, turning to look across McGee at Tony.

Tony gave a nervous laugh, as if he were resigned to acknowledging the topic "Charlie Watson."

"He is a rather talkative man, yes?"

"You could say that," Tony shrugged, turning to look out the window. It was another quick comment, but he seemed to be allowing the conversation.

"I did not realize that you still had fans," Ziva commented curiously.

Another small laugh. "Yeah, me neither."

Tony's gaze remained trained on the passing scenery, his jaw clenched with uncertainty. He was tense, preparing himself for whatever was to come next.

McGee still hadn't said anything from his spot in the middle, as if sensing his partner's unease.

"You know, I would have thought you to find such attention gratifying." She paused for a moment. "It is well-deserved," she added, careful to keep her tone light, inviting a response of more than a few words.

Tony was silent for a while. He seemed to be considering carefully what he wanted to say. It was clear that he had no real idea what to say in this situation, but she had hoped for _something_. Which was why his response came as a shock to her…at least at first.

"What do you want?"

It was said quietly, softly, with no accusation or frustration just…uncertainty. He shifted his gaze back to the road in front of them and swallowed, as if waiting for…something. Maybe it was for the hammer to drop, or maybe it was just for the pitying assurances to start flying, she didn't know. But it was evident he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to respond, or more accurately, how his friends wanted him to respond.

He sounded…lost. Whether it be in the cobwebs of memories, in the muddlement of his thoughts, or in the expectations of others, he was momentarily lost. Ziva allowed herself a moment of weakness as her heart clenched for her friend.

"Nothing, Tony," she responded, equally quiet after she'd taken a moment to think. "Nothing. But we were there today, when he approached you. And we," she glanced towards McGee, who was carefully studying Tony, "just think that maybe it would be…beneficial for you to talk to one…or both of us about it."

Tony looked up, his eyes showing his confusion and frustration. "About what? What do you want to know? I thought…I mean, you already _know_ everything."

Ziva knew the hint of bitterness in his voice manifested more from fear than anger. Tony felt vulnerable. It figured that the one time Tony actually felt vulnerable was at a moment when he should feel proud and accomplished.

"You are referring to the television special, correct?"

Tony's eyes briefly met hers, his expression clear, _What the hell else would I be referring to?_

Ziva gave a small smile at the familiar DiNozzo spark. "Yes, we watched the special Tony. But we would like to talk to _you_ about it." She stopped for a second, but he didn't respond. She tried one more time. "And I think…that if you talk about it Tony, it might help you, too."

She could see her words take hold in Tony's head, his face muscles clenching slightly as he processed it.

Ziva and McGee waited patiently as Tony considered her words, clearly mulling over all of the scenarios and conversations that could end badly. But he hadn't cracked one joke, hadn't made one attempt at changing the subject or skirting the proposal – which meant he actually was considering positive outcomes as well.

It seemed as if he truly did want to tell them, deep down. Ziva hoped that despite the rollercoaster of a night, Tony would be able to concentrate on the trust they had built over the years, rather than the secrecy he had relied on since he'd graduated, and finally be able to share with his friends and begin to heal.

Finally he looked up, glancing between her face and McGee's. "You think so?" he asked, his tone was serious and his eyes were searching for something…perhaps answers.

"Yeah, Tony, we do," McGee interjected finally. "We know you don't want to make it a big deal, but keeping it all bottled up isn't the answer. Because then, when something like this happens," he said, referring to Charlie Watson's intrusion on the crime scene, "it ends up making it a big deal. We're not asking you to talk about it all day, every day, but you don't have to pretend it didn't happen. We aren't going to treat you any differently. And we know…we _see_ that you still struggle with what it all means to you too, so maybe that's where talking about it will help. And you don't have to talk to me and Ziva if you don't want to…you can talk to Abby or Jimmy or hell, Gibbs, but you should talk to someone Tony. We're here for you. We _all_ are."

McGee finished his speech staring at Tony with intensity. Tony stared back at him, struggling to keep his face completely impassive – though Ziva had no idea what emotion he was struggling against. Quite likely, it was shock, because though she had expected a little contribution from McGee in her confrontation, she hadn't expected his a speech. The truck was quiet for a moment.

"That was…well said, McGee," Ziva finally decided to say.

McGee's eyes flicked back to Ziva, but then quickly settled again on Tony, whose facial expression still hadn't changed.

But…there was something in his eyes. Perhaps a spark, that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago. Suddenly, his lips quirked up into a smirk. "When did you grow a backbone, McGee?"

McGee snorted at the jab. "Gee, thanks, DiNozzo."

Tony's smile grew bigger. "I'm serious! I have to say, I like it. But you have to cut down a little on the touchy-feely stuff. Don't want anyone thinking you're a softie!"

"Tony!" Ziva interjected, exasperated. "We are being serious!" She slammed down on the gas pedal as she screeched around a corner, as if to make her point.

"Whoa, ninja! Okay, slow down, slow down, McBarfbag may have a backbone, but he still doesn't have a strong stomach!"

McGee's answering glare would have been more effective had he not been concentrating on keeping his dinner down. Ziva, on the other hand, pretty much had Gibbs's glare down pat. The sight of her dangerous eyes flashing sobered Tony up pretty quickly.

He sat back in his seat, but not before giving his frustrated partner a playful wink. He may be vulnerable, but his defenses weren't totally down. Nonetheless, their little exchange had reminded him how much he cared about his partners, about his friends…and how much they cared about him. It had been a long time since he'd had friends that he truly trusted – maybe it was time to take that leap of faith, to let them in, and allow himself to accept the support they were offering.

"So you guys really want to know about my basketball days?" he asked, after a short respite. The look in his eyes was searching, and it was clear that uncertain-DiNozzo had once again overtaken jokester-DiNozzo.

"Yeah, Tony, we do. If you want to tell us." McGee's gentle tone indicated he'd already forgiven Tony's backbone comment. Truly, he had expected worse from a cornered DiNozzo. Maybe he wasn't the one getting soft.

Tony sighed. "Well there's really not that much to tell that you don't already know…"

"We do not need the facts, Tony. We would just like to know about _you_," Ziva said.

Tony gave her a quizzical look, but McGee was there to clarify. "What we mean is, we don't want you to have to hide it anymore. We just want to know how you felt about it…or maybe, how you feel about it now."

"You do not have to tell us everything today, Tony. We just want to make sure that you are…all right."

"Guys! I'm fine!" Tony gave an unconvincing laugh, but stopped immediately at the twin glares he was receiving from his partners. His eyes regarded them seriously for a moment. "I _am_ fine."

Ziva and McGee waited for him to continue, realizing that his sudden change in tone was his way of actually addressing their concerns.

Tony took a deep breath. "Look, growing up, I really liked sports. Basketball and football." He glanced up at Ziva and offered a smile, "Sorry, Ziva, wasn't as fond of America's pastime as you are."

"It is all right, Tony," Ziva said, with a small nod in his direction, her Mona Lisa smile conveying her support of her friend.

Tony seemed to understand the dual meaning, and continued, this time, with a little more confidence in his voice.

"I played pretty much my whole life. It wasn't until I was disow—er, 11 or 12, that I realized they might be my ticket into college."

Neither Ziva or McGee had missed his little slip up, but only McGee latched onto it, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted Tony to back up and explain yet another of his secrets. Ziva, however, more understanding of less-than-happy childhoods, discretely jabbed him in the side before he could ruin all of their hard work. His mouth quickly closed, but he filed the slip away for another time – like the next time Senior came into town and tried to mess with his partner.

Tony hadn't missed their little exchange, but was grateful for Ziva's quick, yet painful-looking intervention. He inwardly cringed at his slip-up, but he wasn't dwelling on it. Right now, he was already in over his head, and he'd gone too far to back out now. No, he was going to finish this…he'd deal with their reactions later.

"So, um…it turns out I was better at basketball than football, and my senior year, I committed to go to Ohio State. I was told I'd start at point guard as a freshman." He paused again, as if remembering the moment when he chose to become a Buckeye, when he chose to stick it to his father and follow in his own dreams. It had been so long ago, but the lingering emotions of freedom and satisfaction were still with him.

"But you still decided to play football, yes?" Tony was grateful to hear Ziva move the conversation along - memories could be dangerous places.

Tony let out another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Stupid decision, huh? Looking back on it? Kind of ruined everything." The silence was oppressive as Tony tried to work through everything, but finally he shook his head to clear his thoughts, as well as the heavy sadness that seemed to linger in the air.

"Sorry," Tony quickly said as he regained his train of thought. "Um, anyways, yeah, I walked onto the football team, trying to make it as a tight end. Turns out, I'm much better at returning kickoffs…damn." Again, his resolve seemed to crack, but he once more pulled it together.

"So I, uh, became a year-round athlete – football in the fall, basketball in the spring. It was awesome, really. My teammates, my coaches, the big games," he became more playful, "the parties, the girls." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Ziva. She snorted, amused.

"Those were good times," he said, nodding his head, his eyes suddenly far away.

"You certainly had a lot of fans," Ziva added, trying to bring Tony back into to the truck, which had long since pulled into the NCIS garage. No one seemed to notice.

Tony's eyes connected with hers. "Yeah. The whole campus loved our team…we had some pretty exciting games during those years. It's funny…we were just students, just like them, but in their eyes, we were…I don't know, super-human. I remember during one class I just signed autographs like the whole time – I never really understood it, but I thought it was great. I loved the attention…" he thought for a moment. "Guess that explains a lot."

The self-deprecating nonsense was back, but this time, McGee wasn't having any of it. "Seriously, Tony? Anyone would have been wrapped up in the attention. You had every right to enjoy it."

"Don't worry, McMascot, I most definitely enjoyed it. It's just…I started playing the game for myself, and even then, I was still playing it just for fun, because I loved it, and…it never made any sense to me how _that_ made me a hero. I mean, what we're doing now, is way more worthy of that kind of support, but what am I still known for? A last minute buzzer beater to win a National Championship." His voice had turned decidedly bitter now…he was finally letting it all out.

"It's just…it's now 20 years later and I wonder…was there even a purpose to our games? Was there a reason that those fans wanted pictures and autographs and high fives? I did it for fun, for no other reason…did it really even have any meaning to begin with? I mean, what did I work those first 20 years of my life for? If I hadn't broken my leg, would I still be out there, somewhere, thinking I was making a damn difference because I was throwing a ball through a hoop? How in the hell can I miss what I had when I'm actually doing something that matters to others right now? How can I wish I could go back in time and stop my 18-year-old self from playing football to try and salvage my life as a basketball player when it would mean trading the lives of the people I've saved. What kind of a person does that make me?"

"Tony –" Ziva tried to jump in, but Tony held up a hand to stop her.

"No, you got me started, now let me finish."

Ziva nodded, her expression clearly showing her deep concern for her friend.

"It makes me a…selfish bastard. That's what it makes me. And a selfish, arrogant bastard at that, because now I'm just assuming that no one other than me could have saved those people. Which gets you thinking…how many people did my knee injury really affect? I mean, if I'd stayed out of the picture, off on some basketball court where I couldn't hurt anyone, would Kate still be alive?"

McGee flinched, but Tony kept going.

"Paula? Jenny? God knows anyone else on her protection detail wouldn't have let her go off the grid like that. And Jeanne? She'd probably be happily married to Mr. Right instead of nursing the mother of all broken hearts in the middle of Africa. So yeah, thinking about my basketball career, it hurts. But not just because of what I lost, but because of what it's done to everyone else. Sure, I won a freaking national championship, but it's done, in the past – definitely not something I'm ready to brag about. Is that what you wanted to know?

Tony was breathing hard, sweat starting to show up on his forehead, but as his heart rate calmed, his body seemed to deflate. He slumped into his seat, as if expecting his teammates to mock him or leave him after discovering the real truth of supposed superstar, Anthony DiNozzo.

"Is that what you really think, Tony, that sports mean nothing?" McGee finally said, trying to make sense of all of the thoughts his partner had finally let loose. This haunted his partner much more than he had expected. He'd expected Tony to be upset that half of his life had been stripped away from him and that he was being reminded of what he could have been. And Abby had hinted to them a little bit about the guilt he felt for wishing his life had turned out differently, even at the expense of the people he'd saved. But to know that he blamed a decision he'd made as an 18-year-old for the deaths of his friends? It was terrible.

Tony turned toward him. "Don't they? I mean what does it really matter if Ohio State won the NCAA tournament in 1990? People still lived or died, regardless. I was treated like a hero while people were suffering and dying. Sport is just that. Sport. It's not real life and dammit, I couldn't realize that."

"But, Tony-" McGee began, but Ziva, sensing his uncertainty, decided to step in.

"That is not the only thing that sports accomplish, Tony."

Tony looked at her, but the conviction in his eyes did not waver.

"I too, did not at first see their effect. I could not make sense of it – all I could see was life and death. But a life with such a narrow vision…it is not truly living." She looked down, as if remembering her own childhood.

"It is only existing. But you realized this at a young age, you found the meaning of sport and it became a part of you…whether you know it or not." She directed a meaningful look at her partner, who actually seemed to be listening. She continued, feeling the necessity of her message.

"When I, first watched the TV special, all I could see was mobs of people senselessly worshiping a simple game. What I did not yet see, was what that game represented.

"Tony, it is not meaningless that you won the championship, because _yes_ everyone lived on no matter the outcome, but that is not the only thing that lived on. You gave people happiness. You gave children hope that their dreams can come true. You represented something that they felt they could truly believe in. And that belief, and those dreams, and that happiness, those things, really do matter in life. If you do not believe me, you only have to look to Charlie Watson to see what you mean to these people."

"Yeah, Tony. You made his day. Not just today, but back when you met him at that game. You changed his life. Because now he's a basketball coach and he's impacting the lives of all of those kids, and you had a part in that. That's…why it means something," McGee put in, hoping that his partner would see.

Tony stared at his friends. This hadn't been the reaction he was expecting. But he couldn't detect any insincerity in their tones, any pity in their assurances, just…conviction and maybe a tad bit of frustration, as if they were hoping Gibbs might come up and head slap him for being an idiot.

They were right, of course. Tony had always known that sports were more than a game, but it had become muddled with all of the horrible crime scenes and senseless violence that he had dedicated the last 17 years of his life to fighting. The death he'd seen had overridden the joy he'd gotten from memories of his past career, had convinced him that the fun of his previous life had held no meaning because in the end, the bad was always present as well.

He'd suppressed any longing for his previous life as frivolous desire for something juvenile, as selfish longing for a chance at stardom at the expense of the real meaning he'd found in law enforcement.

But he'd forgotten that though exceedingly different, both parts of his life could hold true meaning. That both parts of his life had made him the Anthony DiNozzo that his friends knew today. And that Anthony DiNozzo respected and trusted his friends enough to know that they were here to help him, and that they wouldn't lead him astray. He could trust them with his thoughts and know that they wouldn't run away screaming. It was time to open up, to accept both parts of his life – and his friends had just proven that they'd be right there alongside him.

"I told Charlie I'd come visit his team," he admitted quietly.

It was a simple statement, but a telling one. He was beginning to heal some of his wounds, to reconnect with his past. He saw both Ziva and McGee break out into smiles.

"He uh, sounded like it would mean a lot to them, and…I guess I was just reminded of why I played in the first place. You guys are right…it meant something and it still does. Which is why…I'm trying."

"You are a good man, Tony," Ziva said sincerely.

Tony's lip twitched as if he wanted to disagree, but he accepted the statement with a small nod, "Tha –"

"And you do not have to feel guilty for your feelings." Ziva continued, clearly not done. "It is…only natural to wish for something in your past that you can no longer have. It does not make you weak, or selfish. It means you are a human being."

"You're ri – " Tony started, but apparently McGee had something more to say

"She's right, Tony. You shouldn't have to feel ashamed about wishing you were still an athlete. It doesn't mean you wish you weren't an agent, it just means that you had something great, and that you still appreciate it now. You don't have to feel like you should hide it from everyone."

"Guys, I know," Tony finally got out, surprised when he wasn't cut off by another well-meaning speech. Maybe they needed to have these talks more often, this was turning into the longest car-ride ever. Both Ziva and McGee stopped thinking about the next words they were going to say and looked towards him.

"I _know_," he said, with a deliberate tone, hoping to convey just how much he really was beginning to understand. By the looks on their faces, it seemed to work.

"I've ah, been thinking about this for the past few months, and I swear, I'm getting there. It's just a little hard to change overnight. But…that's why I agreed to meet Charlie's team. It's a work in progress, ya know? But…I really do appreciate knowing I have my team behind me…sorry if I've been acting like a, well – "

"Stubborn donkey?" Ziva offered.

"Hmm, wasn't really going to go with that…I was thinking more like lost lamb?" he replied.

McGee snorted, but then his eyes grew wide as he looked past Tony, out the window and into the NCIS garage, where his a very un-amused Gibbs was staring into the van.

"Looks to me like I've got 3 _lost lambs_," Gibbs growled, hoping that the pride in his team wasn't showing through his glare.

Tony whipped around. "Boss! We were…just having a campfire…in the truck…in the garage…hey! Aren't you just glad we're all still alive after Ziva's driving? She almost killed us on the beltway but, small miracles…ok, shutting up now."

Gibbs didn't say anything, but narrowed his eyes and his three agents jumped into action, grabbing their packs and jumping out the door, ready to collect all of the evidence from the back of the truck.

Gibbs watched with amusement disguised as annoyance. He knew exactly what his agents had been doing, which was why he hadn't disturbed them. He knew that DiNozzo liked to bottle things up, and he had a feeling that the persistence of his teammates might just be enough to get him to open up. And he knew that Ziva and McGee needed to understand what was really bothering their partner so that an inadvertent comment didn't unintentionally hurt Tony's slow healing process.

Tony snuck glances at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye as they quickly arranged all of the evidence.

"Do you think he's going to kill us?" he whispered to his teammates dramatically.

"Worse, he'll probably put us back on call for the rest of the weekend," McGee replied.

"Ouch!" Tony cringed. "How long were we even in there?"

"Long enough," Ziva hissed.

Tony stopped for a moment. "Look guys, I just want you to know…"

"It is all right, Tony. We are partners." Ziva assured.

"Yeah Tony. If you ever need to talk about it, we're here. No matter how much Gibbs is ready to kill us," McGee said sincerely.

"You guys really need to start letting me finish my thought. I was going to say…this is all your fault – "

"Tony!" the twin exasperated exclamations came at once and Tony felt two sharp jabs in his ribs.

"Hey! I said to let me finish my thought!" Tony cried. He continued, despite the daggers they were shooting at him. "I was saying, even if this is all your fault…thanks. You guys are good friends – I'm pretty sure I needed that."

His thanks was met with twin nods, but no one was eager to revel in the moment, not with Gibbs striding towards them. "Now let's get going, quick, before Gibbs shoots us!" Tony hissed, closing the doors and leading the comical charge towards the elevator.

But just as the doors were about to close, it came.

"Hey! DiNozzo!" Tony dramatically flinched at the sharp order.

"I don't suppose any of you want to come with me?" he asked, but Ziva and McGee were already pushing him out of the elevator.

"Hey! Where did that teammate support you guys were just talking about go?"

"Sorry, Tony," McGee laughed.

"I will take excellent care of your letter opener," Ziva teased as the doors closed.

"Guys!" Tony called at the closed elevator doors. He stood there, this time sensing his boss' presence directly behind him.

"Still on my six, boss?" he offered weakly.

"Mmm-hmm." Gibbs firmly grabbed his arm, leading him towards the stairwell. "C'mon."

"Stairwell, boss? You do know there are cameras in there," Tony pretended he didn't know the real reason his boss wanted a private moment.

Gibbs shot him a look but continued into the stairwell, stopping on the first landing and turning to face his senior field agent.

The two men stood silently for a moment, looking at each other. Gibbs, trying to judge exactly what Tony was thinking, and Tony trying not to blink before his boss. They both failed.

"Good talk?" Gibbs finally asked, shocking Tony by being the first to speak.

"How do you always know, boss?" Tony shook his head.

"I don't. I'm asking you," Gibbs replied.

Tony regarded him for a moment, clearly puzzled. But in the end, he decided the truth was the best – if he didn't cave, McGee surely would. "Yeah, I think so," he responded – it was the most honest response he was able to offer at the moment.

Gibbs nodded, but he still didn't seem satisfied. His gaze continued to bore into Tony, who once again, eventually caved.

"Charlie invited me to visit his team," he said. Gibbs quirked his head to the side, still maintaining his intense stare. "I-uh, I said yes."

Gibbs's glare relaxed in intensity just barely and Tony thought he spotted his lips twitching into a smile, but still he didn't say anything.

Tony shifted uncomfortably, able to handle everything involved with Gibbs's second b, but nothing resembling "niceness" or praise from his boss. His eyes darted around the small space, landing on everything other than Gibbs's face. He finally settled on his shoes as he commented, "Ziva and McGee are good friends, boss."

"Yeah, they are."

Tony finally looked up, forcing himself back into the conversation…if you could call it that. Once again, silence took over between the two friends, and Tony began to realize that Gibbs had all day – he'd wait until he got his sit-rep, and it wouldn't affect him one bit.

"I told them everything," he admitted. "Well, not really told them, more like ranted until I realized I'd just given away everything." He chuckled darkly, "it's been a long time since I've made that mistake."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the last statement, his expression demanding an explanation.

"Turns out, it wasn't a mistake though," Tony said, swallowing deeply before continuing. "They, uh, just listened, and then gave me their opinions. Which, to be honest with ya, Gibbs, sounded a lot like you…that is, if you talked."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Apparently, they think I'm being too hard on myself for well…a lot. That I shouldn't feel guilty that I wish my knee hadn't snapped in two."

Gibbs didn't need to voice the _Ya think, DiNozzo_? It was evident in his expression.

"Ha, yeah, see, I told ya you'd agree," Tony smiled, but he had to finish this talk - the jokes would have to wait. "And they…helped remind me what basketball meant to me, and what it means to others."

"What _you_ mean to others, DiNozzo," Gibbs corrected, poking him in the chest with his finger.

Tony looked a little taken aback, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Charlie wants _you_ to come talk to his kids because of the way _you_ played the game."

It took Tony a second to digest this, but for once, it was starting to make sense. "I gotcha, boss."

"Good."

Tony started to turn away, but Gibbs grabbed him. "Hey."

This time, Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Your knee injury – it didn't kill Kate. Or anyone. Ya got that?"

Tony nodded and made to walk up the last flight of stairs, but a squeeze of his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"I asked, do you got that?"

"Yes, boss." The grip on his arm was relinquished, but Gibbs' glare held him there.

"Listen to me, DiNozzo. Every choice we make alters our path in life. Every damn choice. You're no more at fault for Kate's death – or Paula's or Jenny's – because of a choice you made to play in some football game, than I am for taking that first damn case with Kate and putting her on my team.

"If you hadn't become an agent, Ari still would have killed Kate, Paula still would have sacrificed herself, and Jenny would still be gone – because _none_ of that was your fault. But you're damn right things would be different. That kid, Kody, might have blown up his classroom, half the bastards we put away would still be roaming the streets, and I would still be at the bottom of the damn Potomac – because that, Tony _is_ on you."

Tony nodded, trying to process everything his boss had said. Was this a world record? Should he have recorded the amazing performance by the functional mute, talking for a full thirty seconds? What was happenni—

And there it was, the inevitable head slap.

"I put you on my team for a reason, DiNozzo. It was a _choice_. And I'm damn glad I made it. You understand that?"

"Understood, boss."

There was a moment of silent communication of support and appreciation between the two men before it was inevitably broken by Tony.

"So you've never, ever, regretted hiring me?" he prodded.

Gibbs didn't even acknowledge him, moving quickly past his senior agent towards the door to the bullpen.

"Not even after that first time I stayed at your place?" Tony trotted up after him.

Opening the door, Gibbs shot him another look.

"Aha! So you _did_ regret hiring me!"

"Nah, DiNozzo - but I did consider firing you."

"What! Gibbs, are you serious? Then you would have had to fire Abby as well!" Tony chased after Gibbs into the bullpen. Ziva and McGee looked up curiously.

"Gibbs is firing Abby?" Ziva questioned.

"Nope," Gibbs said, sitting down at his desk and taking a sip of his coffee as DiNozzo came to plead his case at his desk.

"But boss! It was her idea to try and get your boat out of the basement!"

"You tried to get Gibbs's boat out of the basement?" McGee asked incredulously.

"Yep!" Abby came bounding in. "Tony was so close! He got it into smaller pieces and got it all the way outside before he realized he scratched up Gibbs' entire house dragging it around. I've never seen the Bossman get quite so colorful. I thought Tony was a goner for sure." She slung her arm around Tony.

"Hey! You were there, watching me do it the whole time and you didn't say anything. I was technically working under your orders!" Tony glared at Abby.

"Which is why I was ready to beg him to let you stay!" she exclaimed, giving Tony a playful slap on the bicep. "But I didn't even have to, because Bossman has a big, forgiving heart," she bubbled with affection.

Everyone trained their shocked expressions on Gibbs. They all waited for the explanation of why he hadn't just fired his new agent after he'd destroyed his house – after all, no matter what Abby thought, Gibbs wasn't really known for being a forgiving type.

Gibbs looked directly at Tony. "I made a choice. And I stick with my choices."

The murmured "I gotcha, boss" was too quiet to be heard, but Gibbs knew Tony had finally truly heard him – and he was well on his way to healing.

End Tag 1

* * *

_Once again, I would like to thank everyone for reading. Please leave a review if you enjoyed, and if you have any ideas for tags, send them my way! Again, I am so sorry for the long delay in posting - I will go back to my regular process of waiting to post til it's finished from now on. You have all been such amazing readers and I just cannot thank you enough!_

_As for more stories, I will begin working on the tag that involves Tony's visit to Charlie's team as soon as I get the time. I will keep you updated on my progress on my profile as much as I can. I will also be resuming my work on my serial killer story, which I would love to post by the beginning of season 11, as long as it is finished. It's about 16 chapters in, and will be close to 30 chapters. Thank you all so much for all of your support and I can't wait to get back to writing more frequently!_

_Thank you for reading, and please do review if you have the time!_

_Peas,_

_Stephanie_


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